Dragon Age: Heart of a Templar
by Murlyndsgirl
Summary: Templars are not always what they seem. How does a young Templar trainee from Rivain overcome the wrongs within and without her order, and remain true to herself? And what happens when she falls in love?...with an irresistible mage? OC/Character study/Adventure/Romance. Formerly titled, "The Depths of Gwaren"
1. Chapter 1: Of Rats and Men

**[Author's note: Templars are so very easy to hate, I just had to take up the challenge of creating a Templar who was "real". Her story begins at our DA "present" - the end of DA2, the world on the cusp of the Mage/Templar War - and proceeds as a flashback in her own words, so the following chapters are first person POV. So please, even if the first chapter seems awkward (and long), give Talita a chance to talk to you in her own voice in the following chapters (which are shorter and go much more quickly!). At least until she gets her first kiss :-) ]**

**[The world of Thedas belongs to Bioware.]**

**[Chapter 1 is background. If it seems too long, Feel free to skip to chapter 2 as the story of Talita's past, written in her own hand, beings in earnest.]**

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**Chapter 1: Of Rats and Men**

The woman lying on the pallet was bruised, but not bleeding. Rats sniffed and scuffled closer to the crude bed, hunger driving their bravery. Closer they crept, quivering with want, emboldened by the the stillness of her form. Her arrival had caused great excitement midst the starving vermin of the recently-abandoned keep, their food supply having dwindled alarmingly. But now, there would be feast. The leader of the pack raised itself up on hind legs in order to sniff at human skin, so tan and lean and smelling delicious. Just a nibble, a bite to ease the burning of its empty stomach…

At once the woman cried out and lunged angrily after the fleeing rats. She caught the largest one by the tail and bashed its head against the stone floor until it burst open. Shakingly, Talita da Motta, Knight Commander of Rivain, drew a breath and tried to still her frantically-beating heart. She tossed the dead rodent aside, wiped blood from her face with the back of her hand, and turned her attention to the door of her prison cell. Neither food nor water had been delivered since her arrival, and for the first time in two days, despair crept darkly into her thoughts. Her gaze returned reluctantly to the dead and bleeding rat. She shuddered. Not desperate enough to eat a raw, diseased rat. At least, not yet. She stepped carefully through the soiled and moldy straw and approached the door. For the hundredth time, she examined the lock, which was cleverly hidden behind a solid iron plate. "Stupid Antivan locksmiths…" she muttered. She closed her eyes as the squalid cell began to spin, and slumped against the reinforced door. Slowly, she slid to the floor.

"Maker forgive me," she whispered. "I should have known, should have been ready…."

But for what, exactly? Part of her mind rebelled at the thought. She'd been ambushed, by attackers who were still unknown to her. And her companions, what had happened to them? Andraste save her, she was not going to eat raw rat meat to stay alive.

Or would she? Her thoughts took refuge in darkness once more.

Some time later she awoke, cold and cramped against the door. There'd been a noise! Lantern light bled into the cell from under the sturdy door. Talita scrambled away from the door and clambered to her feet. She heard the unmistakable sound of a large key scraping into the lock of her cell door followed by the turning of seldom-used tumblers. The heavy portal opened, and she had to shield her eyes from the light.

"Ah, and there she is," came a smooth-sounding voice, spiced with a cultured Antivan accent. "I am sorry we could not return and see to your wounds before now, but deception was absolutely necessary. Even so, many of my people have died while luring your would-be rescuers away from this place."

"And I should... offer my condolences?" Talita asked. Her voice sounded weak and raspy to her own ears.

"I suppose not, given the circumstances. I thought you might wish to know that you have been missed."

Talita's eyes adjusted to the light sufficiently to make out the features of her jailor: he was tall, dressed in fine clothing, and he wore a slender sword belted at his waist. Three guards stood with him, two of them elves. All of them were male, armed and armored. Talita wished fervently for her own armor, but instead she faced them wearing nothing but her bruises and smallclothes. Embarrassment fed her anger and hardened her determination.

Crows. It had to be.

"What do you want?" She asked, coughing. Why have the Crows interfered with the Templar Order, especially now…" Talita's voice trailed off as political realization began to dawn.

Her captor smiled. "You understand now, yes? It is very important to some certain people that you do NOT reach the conference, Knight Commander. Your views are too…reasonable, for some. Your adversary does not want you to arrive and soothe inflamed tempers."

Talita arched an eyebrow. "So, why am I not dead?" she asked.

"Ah yes, there is the part which cost extra. MUCH extra," he chuckled. "We are also instructed not to kill you. And so, you are …our guest."

Talita folded her arms across her chest. There was an ocean of leeway between alive and not dead. She tried to guess what sort of torture the man would employ, what sort of amusements …

To her complete surprise, the Antivan lord bowed to her, then motioned a group serving elves forward. The guardsmen stepped back to allow them passage. One of the elves held a bundle of clothing, another a wash basin, another – Oh Maker, she thought, was that clean water, and food? She was so very, very thirsty…

Inexplicably, the first servant held a large book, bound with gold thread. Such a beautiful volume could only be one thing …The Chant of the Light. Why bring such a work of art into this place of filth and squalor, she wondered.

The Antivan read her expression. "The reason why I am the best at what I do, Knight-Commander, is because I understand people. You will make a vow, before the Maker, and upon Andraste's Chant itself, that you will not try to escape, at the cost of your very soul. Do this, and you will be allowed to leave this cell and join me in the estate above, back in the world of roses and light. If you will not, I have no choice but to leave you here, alone in the darkness."

Talita closed her eyes. How could she ever make such a vow? The Chantry was on the verge of self-destruction, her own order voting on succession from the Divine; the Qunari AND the Imperium poised to take full advantage of the chaos … how could she remain a submissive prisoner? She turned away, ignoring the pain of her thirst. "I …cannot" she said, her voice hoarse with the effort of it.

The Antivan stepped closer to her turned back. The hairs on the back of Talita's neck prickled as he leaned close. "I had expected as much," he murmured, the warmth of his breath feeling strange and invasive against her ear. "So let me add this: We have been paid to keep you from the conference, and we will. But we were not paid to keep parchment and quill from you. If you were to, say, write a letter, would it be my fault if you were to charm one of my servants to see it to the post rider? All would not be lost, then, yes? You can stay here in this horrible cell and stubbornly starve yourself to death, but how would that help the Templar Order? When the day comes and it is time for your release, what good will you be then if you are all weak and sickly? Take the vow, regain your strength, and wait for the day when the tables will be turned against your enemy."

Talita shivered. She hated his logic! She was not afraid to die, but dying here would serve no purpose … except to perhaps deny her Antivan host the money he would receive by keeping her alive. She wondered idly just how much money that was, exactly.

Silence settled in the dank room. One of the guards coughed nervously. The Antivan waited, standing so close she could feel the warmth of his body. She bowed her head. Finally, she gave in.

"I …I will make the oath," she said.

She heard the smile in his voice. "Yes, I knew you would."

* * *

A fortnight later Talita stood in the archway of the balcony overlooking the road below. A rider descended the lane from the estate, his bag full of the letters she had diligently drafted and rewritten after her host's careful corrections. It was his only stipulation about the missives; she could give no clue about her location or imply in any way what had happened to her. Even so, she had managed a few sentences where, she hoped, friends who knew her would know she was writing in distress. Other letters, addressed to attendees gathering at the White Spire in Val Royaux, remained direct and to the point, aiming to end the madness of the looming conflict before it could begin in earnest.

A serving elf entered the spacious hall behind her. Talita pretended not to hear him. He cleared his throat. "Don Luzio will see you now, Mistress," he said.

Talita sighed, and turned, feeling awkward in the ridiculous layers of petticoats and lace she was wearing. A true lady's dress, it was, drawn tight at the waist, displaying far too much of her bosom, and with enough material in the cascading skirts to make a dozen tabards. Having at last completed her goal of getting the letters to a courier, she felt suddenly at a loss. "Where is the Don?" she asked.

"He waits for you in the rose garden, Mistress."

"Déjà vu," she whispered to herself, remembering the Orlesian phrase.

"Mistress?"

"Nothing."

The formal garden was inspired by those in Val Royaux, with geometrically shaped hedges and slanting walkways making patterns of diamonds throughout. Where the fountain would have been there was instead a simple, low pond filled with golden fish. Don Luzio himself held trimming scissors in his hand and contemplated a rose bush shaped like a heart.

Talita's gaze was unwillingly drawn to the Antivan's skillful hands as he pruned around a half-opened rose. The thorns of the rose were curved and barbed and seemed as vicious as the rose was breathtaking. One by one, the dangerous barbs were skillfully trimmed without undue harm to the stem. At last, he cut the stem at the proper length. He turned to his guest and his eyes warmed with pleasure as she approached.

"The dress is perfect, my Lady. It is even more stunning than I'd imagined,"

Talita curtseyed in reply, but did not smile. It pleased the "Don" (she wondered if he really WAS what he was claiming) far too much to parade her about as if she were his latest paramour. She'd promised not to escape, nothing further.

To her bewilderment, Luzio offered her the rose. She stared at it a long moment before reluctantly accepting it. He smiled. "Like this rose, Talita, you are beautiful addition to this house," he purred.

The symbolism was not lost on his guest. "Now that you have removed the thorns, you mean?" She moved to return the rose to him, but he caught her wrist deftly, but gently.

"Is that so bad, really?" he asked.

She yanked her wrist away, anger smoldering behind her closed expression. Luzio smiled. Abruptly, he changed the subject.

"Unfortunately, I must leave you, Knight-Commander. I hope you will continue to enjoy your stay. I assure you, you will be safe here."

"Safe?" Talita asked.

"Yes. There are … unpleasant rumors that half the people who are trying to find you are actually out to silence you… permanently. You may not believe me, but getting captured by my people may have been for the best."

"Who is behind all of this, Luzio? Tell me, before you leave," she paused. "Please."

Luzio hesitated, "I …cannot, you know this."

Talita frowned.

Luzio continued, "Before I leave, however … a… demonstration, so that you can believe we will keep you perfectly safe here."

The Don motioned and one of the guardsmen approached. He held a burlap sack which squirmed.

Talita schooled her expression and ignored the feeling like ice beginning to form in her stomach.

Luzio nodded, and the guardsman reached into the sack and removed a large, brown hare, holding the creature by the nap of the neck.

"You see," Luzio explained, taking a small vial from his pocket. "There are times when my… hobby…becomes most useful…"

The Antivan Lord dipped a small needle-dart through the cork of the vial. The guard offered the hare and the Lord pricked the creature's ear with the dart.

The effect was immediate. The hare began to screech and twitch violently. It wriggled out of the guard's grasp and fell to the grass, writhing and foaming.

In less than a minute, it was still and glassy-eyed.

"As you can see, Talita, your enemies would be foolish to search for you here. All of my guardsmen have crossbow bolts treated with this extract. Even a near miss would be fatal." Luzio carefully tucked the stoppered vial into his coat and reached with his other hand to hand catch Talita's wrist again. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the master assassin lift her hand, the one holding the rose, to his face. His eyes never leaving hers, he inhaled deeply. "Perfection." He murmured.

Talita ignored both his innuendo and the implied threat of the poisoned weapons. "I will keep my vow, Luzio. But I ask you to reconsider returning my weapons to me, for practice. And decent clothing. If it is as you say, and I will someday be free from this place, then I cannot allow my skills to fade—"

Luzio laughed, then. "You are a Knight-Commander of the Templar Order, Talita da Motta. A few months of ease will not diminish you in any way."

"Then what am I to do?" Talita snapped.

"You have paper, and ink," Luzio replied thoughtfully. "Write!"

She blinked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Write? Write what? I have sent the letters—"

"Write about what it means to be a Templar," he answered as he turned toward the estate. "By the time this is over, you may be the only one who can."

An hour later, Talita sat before neatly-stacked sheaves of fine paper. "_Write, he'd said. But …what, exactly? What could I write?_ _Who would want to read it? I'm a horrible writer_!" She jumped to her feet and paced the drawing room. No, she would not! But what else was there? She needed action, not a chair and a quill! She needed to escape, to get herself to Val Royaux before it was too late-!

Sighing, she returned to her chair and lifted the quill pen. She was a Templar, protector of mages, servant of the Chantry, defender of the people. Given the very real possibility that she would not leave this estate alive, what would she want the world to know?

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(And so, the REAL story begins ... in her own words! Read on!)

(Any comments, disputes about world of Thedas facts, etc are so very very welcome!)


	2. Chapter 2: Wrinkles

**(This begins the story that Talita is writing with her own hand as she is held prisoner by the Antivan Crows. It is a flashback, moving back through time to the months before the opening scenes of Dragon Age Origins)**

**{Seems like a good time to post this: The world of Dragon Age belongs to Bioware, not me. I'm just in the sandbox for a while...}**

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**Chapter 2: Wrinkles**

"It has been decided," Knight-Commander Angelo began. "You will leave on the morrow with the others."

"The others, Knight-Commander?" I asked.

"Your teachers, Ivonetta and Everado. You'll continue your training as you travel with them to Ferelden."

"Ferelden?"

A sinking feeling swept over me, but I kept my expression still. Inside, I struggled for understanding – whatever had I done to deserve such punishment? Surely only the worst of Templar trainees were sent to the wet, cold lands of the barbarians?

Angelo smiled reassuringly, guessing my thoughts, I think. "Do not worry, Talita," he said. His brown eyes warmed with kindness, as they always did when we were able to speak alone. Angelo's vow to my dying mother to keep me safe from my traitorous father had governed our relationship for seven years now. Angelo, Knight-Captain of the Templar order in Rivain, was very much the father I wish I'd had.

Yet, was there sadness behind those eyes? Something he was not saying. I had to pry.

"It is my father, isn't it? He is causing trouble."

Angelo frowned. "Your father …yes, he has made several entreaties to the Grand Cleric Paulina concerning you. But, do not worry! He is not the reason I am sending you south. In fact, Paulina herself requested this. She knows of my trust in you, and has a specific mission in mind. Go to the Chantry gardens and speak with her. She is expecting you."

Fist over my heart, I bowed to him. As I turned away, a thousand questions bubbled up through the mental quicksand of my mind. Why would the Grand Cleric wish to see me in person? What sort of mission could she, the most important woman in the Rivaini Chantry, have for me, a mere Knight in training? Last I knew, Paulina was still disappointed that I had chosen to become a Templar instead of a cloistered sister.

Down the stone stairway leading from Angelo's office, I realized with horror that I was still wearing my training gear and was covered with dust and sweat from the day's lessons. One does NOT appear before the Grand Cleric looking like a market urchin playing at soldier! My heart leaped to my throat as I sprinted through the high-ceilinged corridors, past the frescoes of the Lady and down several more flights of stairs. The trainee barracks were below ground, two layers deep under the Knight's chapel. I jumped down the last half a flight of stairs, pressed past a younger trainee carrying folded linens (which dumped onto the floor as I passed) -

"Hey!" he growled.

"Sorry!" I shouted.

- and turned the last corner before my cell. I flung open the door and scrambled to find my parade tabard and boots.

Marianna looked up from her reading, looking annoyed. She was the only other female trainee and therefore my cellmate. She was two years my senior and very near the end of her studies. "What IS it, Talita? Who died?"

I opened the door of large, oak armoire we shared, and blinked. "Marianna! Where is my tabard?" I demanded.

Marianna shrugged, "How should I know?"

I turned toward her, my anger barely in check. "You borrowed it! Yesterday, for your review-" I narrowed my gaze at her. The raven-haired beauty did not even seem disturbed. With her flawless, pearlesque skin and eyes the color of the dusk blue sky, she was not accustomed to bowing to the needs of others. Even her teachers and trainers seemed tongue-tied around her. I, however, was never so charmed. I gave the leg of her chair a vicious kick!

Marianna fell unceremoniously to the floor. "You little rat dog! How dare you- "

I reached down and pulled her to her feet. Roughly. Little? She had the beauty, but I had the advantage of height and strength. I tried to ignore how common my darkly-tanned skin appeared so close to her perfect paleness. I was angry, and panicked. "I dare because I MUST have my tabard! I have been summoned to the Grand Cleric herself!"

At first, she stared at me, blinking, as if she could not believe what I had said. Then she pulled away – or rather, I allowed her to pull away. "Very well! You do not need to act like such a brute! I am sure it is here somewhere …"

She flipped open her storage locker and rummaged. In a moment, she produced the beautiful white silk tabard with the red embroidered flame of the Templar order emblazoned on it. It was wrinkled!

"You nearly ruined it!" I growled. "Quickly, get the steam for the wrinkles! Go!"

Rolling her eyes, Marianna tossed the tabard on my bunk and headed out. Meanwhile I pulled off the training leathers and chainmail vest. What I needed was a long, hot bath, what I had to settle for was a cool quick scrub from the washbowl. I washed, careful not to drip water near the silk, and pulled on clean trousers. I unbraided my hair, which was as brown as my skin but streaked with sungold, and was viciously attacking it with a brush when Marianna returned.

She eyed my progress and shook her head. Lazily, she found a place for the steaming kettle, flipped open the lid, and held my tabard in the steam.

"Careful not to get too close!" I warned.

"Yes, yes! I know."

I smoothed and rebraided my hair, grabbed my boots, and after giving them a quick rub with the polish cloth, pulled them on.

I was out of time. The tabard was not perfect, but it was better. I took it from Marianna and pulled it over my head. She handed me the scarlet sash and I tied it about my hips. Stepping back, I turned a full circle. "How does it look?" I asked.

Marianna frowned. "Lucky for you the Grand Cleric is known to be losing her sight."

* * *

This was my first attempt at first person POV. My goal is for us to FEEL the events as they happen to her.

Reviews, comments, posts, favorites are mana from the Maker. Please let me know what you think, I know there is a ton of room for improvement. TY!

Read on, it gets better! :-)


	3. Chapter 3: Demon of Destiny

(_A note about Rivain: the Dragon Age wiki notes that Rivain is like Spain religiously: The Qunari invaded and left their mark deeply upon half of the country. Three Exalted marches later, the Chantry regained a foothold there, but it is a dark and bitter story, much like the stories of the Knights of Christendom during the Crusades. To this, I have brazenly added my own sprinkling of Portugual to Rivain. It stands to reason that it would be the sailing mecca of the world, much like Portugal was in those early days of exploration here in the real world)_

_Thedas, alas, and all these delicious tensions belong to Bioware._

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**Chapter 3: Demon of Destiny**_  
_

Real fear, I have discovered, is not born of physical danger alone. It is instead born of something deeper. The power to shape a soul, to turn and twist another's fate, to make, or destroy the very meaning of another's life, there lies an unfathomable, silent, invisible monster. As I mounted the marble stairs to the Grand Cleric's private garden, I felt the presence of the dark monster about me and I trembled, not understanding why.

She was alone, seated on a stone bench near the fountain. Her silver hair caught the warm hues of the afternoon sun, and the fountain water glinted like liquid diamonds. The garden around us was filled with blooming roses, crimson, like the color of the sash around my waist. I drew closer, knelt on one knee, and reminded myself sternly that I could not, must not, fail Angelo in this.

"Ah, you must be Angelo's young protégée," began the Grand Cleric.

"Talita da Motta, your Grace," I answered as steadily as I could.

Paulina stood and motioned to me. "Walk with me, Child."

"Yes, Grand Cleric."

I stood and caught up with her in three long strides. I was surprised and disturbed to find that I was taller than she was. For some reason, it made me uncomfortable.

"Did the Knight-Commander tell you why I've sent for you?" she asked.

"He mentioned a voyage, your Grace. To Ferelden."

"Yes. Exactly so! Ferelden is the land of my youth. Some friends of mine still reside there. I am charging you, young one, to carry letters to them. These letters are of vital importance. They MUST arrive unopened and unread by anyone except the persons for whom they are intended. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Grand Cleric," I answered. Inside, my thoughts swirled with alarm.

She paused to admire a particularly large blossom. I remained silent.

"From his descriptions of you, I had thought you would have questions for me, young knight."

I blushed. "I do, Grand Cleric."

Paulina laughed. "Ask, then!"

"Why have you chosen me, Grand Cleric? There are two full knights heading to Ferelden already."

Paulina nodded. "Yes, this is true, and they are fine people. Yet Knight-Commander Angelo speaks highly of you, Talita da Motta. He trusts you. And I trust him."

Trust. So she didn't trust her knights not to read the letters? It was too distasteful to ask. She saved me the trouble.

"Because you ARE a trainee, child, no spy would think to search your belongings, or try to rob you for such information. The other two will be targets. You will be seen as their underling, nothing more. That is why you are perfect for this task. There is also the fact that Ivonetta and Everado have their own, very important, missions to accomplish."

"So this has nothing to do with my father, then?"

Paulina favored me with a long, assessing look. "Your father thinks he can win my approval, and therefore a path back to you, by giving generously to the Chantry here in Dairsmuid. He is wrong. There is no amount of money that would surpass the debt of Angelo's promise to your mother."

"So you're sending me away so he can't find me?"

"With his latest donation, he asked only that he be allowed to come and tour the Chantry grounds. I accepted his money. I did not promise that you would be here when he arrived."

I marveled at the woman.

Paulina laughed. "Child, holiness does not mean complacency.

We fight a spiritual war here in Rivain, one in which we outnumbered three to one. Your father converted to the Qun. Perhaps it will do his soul some good to give his Qunari-earned money back to the true faith of his youth."

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Please review! TY!


	4. Chapter 4: Spirit of Opportunity

**[Written by the hand of Talita da Motta, Knight-Commander of Rivain, as she is held prisoner by Antivan Crows.]**

**[Recap: Talita, a young templar in training, has been given a mysterious task by the Grand Cleric herself. She is heading to Fereldan; a frightening prospect in of itself, unknowing that the Blight is already stirring there]**

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**Chapter 4: Spirit of Opportunity**

Well before dawn the next morning, I dressed for travel. It had been many years since my last voyage at sea; despite my misgivings about our destination, I was excited. As a young girl I had loved to sail with my father. He'd taught me everything, from reading the sky to working the ropes. I imagined that, had things happened differently, I would have been a sailor, maybe perhaps a first mate on my way to a captain's berth. Lost in these thoughts, I was completely unprepared when I crashed into Angelo's chest as I stepped into the hallway outside my cell.

"Knight-Commander!" I stammered, mortified. What was he doing here, at this unholy hour? "Is something wrong?" I asked.

"No, Talita, nothing is wrong," he assured me as he lent a steadying hand. Glancing at my travel bag and light armor, he ventured, "All set?"

I nodded. "Yes, Commander."

He paused and I sensed hesitation. From Angelo? I felt my pulse quicken in alarm.

"Talita," he began, "Be careful. This journey will take you far away from everything you know. Ferelden can be a dark and dangerous place. And I – I will not be there to protect you."

His vow to my mother. I instantly understood. "I promise to be careful," I said, although I'd never really been careful a day in my life, as Angelo knew well.

He studied me for a long moment. In the dim torchlight, I saw lines of worry around his eyes. It suddenly occurred to me that he did not want me to leave, but was not about to gainsay the Grand Cleric's choice. My heart filled with a strange emotion. He was worried about me, as a father would be. I was embarrassed, my vision blurred. He hugged me then, and I knew it would be moment I would never forget. I felt the fatherly strength of his arms and will of his spirit protecting me, wanting me to be safe.

He released me at last, and kissed my forehead in blessing. I was beyond words as he cleared his throat. "Ah, yes, and there is one more thing—"

I listened and nodded, still unsure of what to say. Angelo untied an embroidered leather pouch from his belt and offered it to me. As my fingers closed around the leather, however, he held up a finger to stop me.

"A small test first, Talita. Tell me, what do you sense, inside the bag?"

My fingers tingled strangely, even before he'd finished his question. What did I sense? A sphere inside the bag, but there was something else. Something more. Instantly, my curiosity chased away the awkwardness of the previous moments.

"Its …warm …" I ventured, as Angelo was waiting for my response. "And ..alive? It seems to vibrate, or hum."

Angelo smiled broadly and his eyes twinkled with delight. "Exactly so! Open it!"

I untied the silk cord with trepidation. Inside I found a glass sphere filled with a luminescent blue fog, or was it sand? Or a liquid? I lifted the ball out of the pouch to examine it more carefully. The blue essence inside the sphere seemed to both flow and float simultaneously.

"Is this …lyrium?" I asked. This bordered on advance training, I suddenly realized. Training that was forbidden a novice like me, yet here it was in my hand.

"Yes, an essence of lyrium. Some call it 'mana'. It is an energy, although it can also be found in a liquid mixture. This sphere was created using a process that is now lost to the Circle. We Templars use these mana spheres to learn mastery over it. Without this energy, a mage cannot work his magic. Unfortunately, these baubles are rare now, and many Templars are trained using lyrium itself. Long, direct exposure to lyrium ruins the mind, Talita. Avoid it! Master the sphere instead. It is a longer, more difficult path, but a stronger one in the end."

He touched the edge of the crystal glass and the blue essence fled from him, flattening itself to the far side of the ball. It was dark and dormant. This was the very heart of a Templar's power!

He removed his touch and the mana began to flow and brighten once again.

He wanted me to take this gift, this rare magic thing? "It might break on the journey," I protested.

"The glass is unbreakable, save by magic. You will have many long hours on the ship. It is time not to be wasted."

Footfalls sounded down the nearby stairwell and Angelo quickly returned the sphere to its pouch and placed it in my hand.

"You have your orders, trainee." He said to me as one of his assistants approached us.

I saluted, an arm across my chest and a bow. "Yes, Knight-Commander," I answered crisply.

His assistant also saluted. "The First Enchanter seeks a word with you, ser."

"Then let us go and see what he wants."

xxxx========xxxxxxxxx=========xxxxxxx=========

In the courtyard a wagon had been prepared and several horses were saddled. The First Enchanter was indeed waiting. He was a tall, thin man with long hair, a pointed nose and piercing dark eyes. Romaldruin was his name, and he was rumored to have descended from Tevinter stock, from a dalliance between an Imperial Magister and a local Rivaini during the last of the Exaulted Marches against the Qunari. Although I'd seen the man before, I'd never heard him speak. His voice was surprisingly deep for such a reedy-looking man.

"Knight-Commander!" he called to Angelo as we approached. "There has been a last-minute addition to the roster. Despite my assurances that you would approve, your lieutenant is quite adamant that I have your direct approval for the change."

The lieutenant in question, Ivonetta, frowned. She stepped forward. "The procedures are clear, First Enchanter. I meant no offense."

Angelo held up a hand to Ivonetta, but addressed Rumaldruin. "Are you wanting to travel to Fereldan, First Enchanter?"

"Me? Maker, no! But this young mage, Joao Carlos, has important business at the Circle Tower in Fereldan. He has received an invitation from First Enchanter Irving to continue his studies there for a few years, and I have given my approval. Will you not see that he is escorted there safely, Knight-Commander?"

Ivonetta, clad in full-body Templar armor, stood scowling. It wasn't an auspicious beginning for our voyage. The Knight-Lieutenant was obviously not a superstitious woman; my grandmother's warning about remembering to smile at all partings came to mind. The spirits, she said, were opportunists, lurking and watching our comings and goings, looking for any sign of strife, of disgruntlement. "So make your heart light and think positive thoughts, so that all we be well while those you love are away," she'd admonished me.

Angelo, as always, was calm. "They are scheduled to meet with some Templars in Denerim on the return voyage, Romaldruin, it should be no trouble at all to see your mage safely there and entrusted to their care."

The First Enchanter nodded, seemingly satisfied. Ivonetta barely contained her ire until Romaldruin had stepped away. She turned to Angelo. "Knight-Commander! We were not advised in advance about this transfer! The arrangements—"

"Be easy, Ivonetta. It is our duty. See the boy to Denerim safely. He is not a trouble maker, or we'd already know of him."

Ivonetta saluted. "I will send word ahead to the captain of the Seadance, ser," she offered.

Angelo nodded. The lieutenant turned and stalked away, but not before casting an irate glare at the newest member of our party. Joao Carlos was a tattooed young man with earrings, decorations that spoke of hailing from a Rivaini family of wealth and influence. The First Enchanter was doling out some final instructions to him, and I watched as the younger man bowed respectfully, hefted his satchel over his shoulder and headed in our direction.

Angelo greeted him and asked, "Is this your first sea voyage, Joao Carlos?"

"No, Knight-Commander, but my first since I was very young," he answered. "Thank you, ser, for allowing me to join the expedition."

"After weeks at sea and days spent in the cold Fereldan rain, I wonder if you will still feel as grateful."

* * *

**[Author's Note: It stands to reason that the Templar Order was not founded as a bunch of addicts: yet, the skill required to disperse mana is not found in every recruit, and so, eventually, they found ways to compensate. Lyrium is the steroid addiction of the Order: so easy to justify, especially in those situations where lives may be at stake. Unfortunately, direct lyrium use is a crutch, a cheap shortcut to power, much like the DARK SIDE of the Force. And, like the Dark Side, it yields only sorrow and death wherever it is embraced]**

(please review or comment! Do you agree? Disagree? Hate this? Love this? Would love to know! TY!)


	5. Chapter 5: The Mage

**(Enter, the mage. It IS a romance, afterall ...)**

**[Author's note: Joao is supposed to have a squiggle accent over the "A".]**

**{Continues the account of Talita da Motta, Knight-Commander of Rivain, written by her own hand as she is held prisoner. Story is a flashback, moving back in time to the months before the beginning of the 5th Blight.}**

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**Chapter 5: The Mage**

As there lies a world of difference between studying how to hold a sword and actually wielding one, so is the breech between studying mages and actually meeting one. Or guarding him. Doing one's duty. When one studies account after horrific account of mages doing dark things, becoming raving abominations, using forbidden blood magic, one begins to expect those behaviors to surface, eventually, in all mages. I never would have thought myself prey to such delusion, but that first encounter, close and personal with someone afflicted with the mage curse, as some would say, found me off balance and uncertain. Much to my dismay, Ivonetta had assigned me to drive the wagon. I had assumed I would ride with the rest of the soldiers, that Renaldo, the eldest of our group and a man with more grey in his hair than dark, would take the wagon. I opened my mouth to protest, but Angelo was still there, waiting to see us off. I would not make a scene in front of him, so I ignored the poorly-hidden mirth in the eyes of the escort riders and climbed up into the driver's seat. Moments later, the mage was climbing up the passenger side. I ignored him as I gathered the reigns.

"Is is a beautiful morning for travel ," he ventured.

I grunted non-committally. It was true, though, what he said. The dawn was promising to be spectacular, the air cool and refreshing. I scowled all the more deeply. It was a fine morning for a ride, and I would be plodding along in the wagon! The Blight take Ivonetta!

Joao Carlos studied my expression. The cargo had been loaded and the strapping was secure. Angelo said a brief word of blessing over us, and the Chantry gates were opened. Remembering my grandmother's warnings about sour goodbyes, I tried to school my expression toward neutrality, at least. Smiling was out of the question.

We were out of the gates and through most of the city before Joao Carlos asked, "Are you sure you're a templar?"

I glared at him. "What do you mean by that?" I snapped.

"I've never seen a templar without heavy armor and shield."

"I've trained in both, but on ship, it's better to stay light," I answered.

"And you're far too pretty to be a Templar."

I blinked, not believing his audacity. "And you're far too glib for a mage!" I growled. I was blushing, though. I hated it, but there it was. Miserable mage!

He laughed. "Yes, so I've been told," he admitted. The wagon bounced painfully over the uneven road, but he easily kept his balance. "We haven't been properly introduced," he said. "I am Joao Carlos del Medina."

I didn't answer him, using my attention to the oxen as an excuse to ignore him. He waited. I decided not to answer.

"I could choose a name for you, if you'd like," he offered.

I said nothing.

"How about …Rosa? That is a beautiful name. Rosalind del Jadina! And you can call me Juca. Only the First Enchanter calls me Joao Carlos."

I kept my eyes focused on the road ahead as our cart rolled slowly along; a rocking, creaking affair. He watched me and seemed not in the least put off by the uncomfortable ride or my silence. Minutes passed.

I sighed. "I am Talita da Motta," I said quietly.

He smiled, and bowed even from the awkward seated position on the rough bench. "I am honored, my Lady."

"I am no one's "Lady", mage!"

He laughed again and seemed content.

I wondered then, if there were things such as Charm Demons and if so, had this mage been possessed already? It was going to be a much longer journey that I had believed only minutes before.

%%^^&&**

If there is an opposite to that dark monster that pulls at fears of fate, it has to be found in the morning light dancing upon the waters of Rialto Bay. It is a weightless, irrepressible energy, full of possibility and optimism. The power of it struck me as we rounded through the wide port gate of the capital and began the final descent to the docks. I remembered the feeling well; it was the very same intoxication that had completely captured me while I still wore pigtails. Was this the hand of the Maker, I wondered, or just chance? Was this the light of Creation, and if so, what was that darkness that had touched my soul only the night before? There is only one Maker, the Chantry teaches, but why would he make both the moments of light and of darkness?

Maker's breath, as they say, but the sight was beautiful. I smiled to myself, Maker's breath indeed.

Oddly enough, my jocular companion made no mention of the view. I stole a glance in his direction. Joao Carlos, or Juca as I remembered he asked to be called, was introspective, not really seeing the waters of the bay at all. The wind had shifted with the dawn, suddenly gusting strong and cold behind us. His cloak and hair billowing, Juca still held a faraway expression. What DID mages think about, I wondered. Did their thoughts wander into the Fade, pulling the power to work magic deeply into themselves? Were abominations simply mages who had let their minds wander too far? I shivered.

"Do you suppose the captain will have breakfast available?" Juca asked.

I blinked, and laughed.

Juca looked bewildered. "Was it something I said?" he asked.

I shook my head, vowing to myself to never again guess at a mage's thoughts. Juca tilted his head inquiringly.

I snapped the reins at the oxen, who had slowed. "We can check with the ship's cook when we board. Or, sometimes there are vendors dockside, trying to make some last minute coin."

"You sound as if you've done this before."

"I…yes, but it's been years."

"Is that why there are knives in your boots?"

"Maybe," I answered, and smiled. "Or maybe that's for mages who run faster than I."

I meant it as a joke, but his expression clouded.

"I'm kidding!" I said quickly. "Besides, I haven't thrown a knife and meant it in years."

He studied me for several moments. "You are a very strange templar, Talita," he concluded.

"I'm only a trainee," I corrected him. "I haven't yet –"

"Yes, I know, taken your vows. A very strange woman then."

Woman. I was accustomed to Angelo referring to me as a girl, and everyone else as, "recruit" or "trainee". I looked away and busied myself by watching the movements of the neck yokes on the white oxen.

Juca smiled again. It was like the sunshine returning from behind the clouds. "Strange can be good, you know."

What does one say?

* * *

(The story has needed him sorely, and he's finally here! Review/comments are so very welcome!)


	6. Chapter 6: Seer's Blood

**{The story continues, as told by Talita herself as she is held prisoner by the Antivan Crows...the events in this story are taking place slightly before the opening of DAO. To recap: Talita da Motta is a young Templar in training in Rivain. She has just been charged with her first duty - to escort secret letters from the Grand Cleric herself. Oh, and a mage. If only the mage could travel as quietly as the letters ...;-)}**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Seer's Blood**

_"Strange can be good, you know."_

What does one say?

I was rescued by the sound of stern-sounding voices ahead. Female voices, one of them surely Ivonetta's. One of the escort guardsmen frowned and moved his mount on ahead. We had entered the deep shadows of the warehouse quarter and had pulled to a stop on the verge of the docks themselves.

"Go back! Go back, all of you!" a heavily-accented voiced called out. I leaned out of the wagon, but could not see the speaker. "I wonder what is going on?" I asked.

Juca hopped up upon the driving bench and stood, covering his eyes. "I can't – wait! A Seer!" He chuckled, "This should be interesting…"

A Seer! I'd completely forgotten! No Rivaini ever sails without a Seer's blessing on the voyage. Seers, of course, made it a point to advertise the fate of those ships who had foolishly not paid the modest fee for blessing. There were sailors who would sail without one, but not many of my countrymen would do so willingly. Even my father, who had supposedly found the Qun, had Seers who plied their trade for the benefit of his ships. Few of them, he suspected, actually were Seers; most of them were merely good actresses. It was always a good idea to appease them, however, just the same. It made good business sense.

But the Chantry? Would not. Could not. Could they?

I saw her then. The short, dark-skinned woman had a single, milky-white eye, long grey hair, and piercings which linked a golden chain from her lip to her eyebrow to her earlobe. She was resplendent in a randsom's-worth of golden chains and jewels about her neck and wrists. She met my gaze, shrieked and rushed over to latch onto my leg!

"You must not! Nooo! Child! There is darkness and dread about you! You and the boy must NOT go onto that ship!"

Her nails dug into my leather boots. She wailed now, like a woman at a funeral. I had no idea what to do! One did not draw a weapon on a Seer, but her keening made me angry. And afraid. "Please! Stop, grandmother," I pleaded, using the polite term for an elderly Seer. I tried to remove my leg from her grasp. She gripped it more forcefully.

Ivonetta, unhorsed and looking displeased, was stalking up behind the old woman. The Seer continued unabated, "There will be death, and blight, sickness and sorrow! The depths of the sea and earth will swallow you! You must NOT go!"

I wanted to crawl under the wagon. The entire entourage was watching, some smirking, others with serious expressions of doubt and fear and even others making warding signs against evil. Around us on the bustling docks, workers slowed, their curiosity warming when they realized that it was perhaps, at long-last, a Chantry versus Seer confrontation. My stomach tightened at the thought. The Grand Cleric was not seeking to ruffle any feathers.

"Woman! We've noted your concern," Ivonetta growled. "Now back away and let us pass! You're scaring the animals, and putting yourself in danger."

"Blood and darkness!" the Seer swore. Her gaze locked with mine and… my thoughts seemed to melt into her white, sightless eye. I was frozen, unable to move, my hearing fading, heartbeat slowing...

When again I could focus my eyes, Juca was patting the old woman on the arm and thanking her. I saw him slide a gold sovereign (a sovereign!) into her hand, mumble something about templars and blessing our ship from afar, if she would. For her part, the Seer seemed as addled as I was. I shook my head to clear it. Obviously I'd missed more than a moment: Ivonetta had moved back to the fore of our little parade and the crowd was dispersing.

Juca was climbing back into the wagon. He waved cheerily at the Seer and leaned closer to me to gently take the reins from my hands.

"What happened?" I asked, frowning.

"I think she was really worried about you," Juca replied casually. "Or perhaps she was angling for a larger tip. In either case, it seemed prudent to give her what she wanted."

"She.." I began, then stopped. Had the Seer cast a spell on me? I felt a twinge of panic. "What did …what did Ivonetta say?"

Juca flipped the reins and the oxen moved along with the rest of the party. "The lieutenant," he continued, "Was on the verge of violence, I think. As soon as I persuaded the kind woman to let go of you, however, all was well."

Something in the light manner of his answers made me turn to study his expression. Juca was very pleased with himself. Very pleased. "What…did you DO?" I asked him.

Juca only smiled.

By the time we arrived at Seadance's berth, I'd let the question pass, not exactly certain I wanted to know the answer. We climbed down into the bustle and noise of sailors, cargo, shoremen, and harbor officials. Ivonetta's gaze found mine, however, and she jerked her head to the rear of the wagon, ordering me to oversee the loading of our goods while she met with the captain of the ship.

With a sigh, I led the oxen team closer to the loading platform and turned to ask Juca to help me get the ropes untied.

The mage was gone.

I blinked. Gone?!

"Maker! I'm in trouble now," I growled. Pulling a knife from my boot, I climbed up into the back of the wagon and cut the ropes free. As the shoremen got to work on the crates, chests, barrels, and bundles, I stepped up on the wagon's boards and balanced there as I scanned the crowd. My thoughts raced. Surely Ivonetta should have taken the mage with her! He wasn't a runaway, but with a sinking feeling I realized that they would not want me to let him out of my sight. How would I explain? How could I ever face Angelo again knowing that I'd failed at one of my very first responsibilities?

A tap on my boot interrupted my dark thoughts. "Some breakfast, bonita?"

Juca stood at my feet, a half dozen steaming breakfast rolls in his hands. Amusement danced in his eyes. I let myself down from the wagon with an easy jump, and landed beside him. "Were you looking for something?" he asked teasingly.

I felt the heat of embarrassment warm my cheeks. "I ..." was all that I could say before he offered a roll to me. It smelled delicious, stuffed with various meats and spices. I stood there, feeling outwitted and trying to hide it, when my stomach growled. He laughed, and urged me to take the roll. Reluctantly, I accepted. He simply bit into one of his rolls and smiled. I noticed then, in the morning light and sea air, that his dark eyes were actually green, touched with gold from the sunlight.

Maker, I was in trouble. I just didn't know how much.

* * *

(Like it or hate it, please oh please let me know. I am constantly trying to improve! TY!)

[And a hint: The old Seer woman wasn't the only one with the "Sight" in that scene...]


	7. Chapter 7: Forever apart

_(A short chapter with no action, per sae, but important as Talita describes the first time she senses the huge gulf separating mages from the rest of world. I deleted a bunch from this chapter that was simply "fun with nautical vocabulary", in hopes of picking up the pace. Looking to add some spice very very soon!)_

_[Written by the hand of Talita da Motta, as she is held prisoner by Antivan Crows, this chapter continues as a flashback into her past]_

_[The world of Thedas and all its quirks and loveliness belongs to Bioware...]_

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**Chapter 7: Forever Apart**

_Seadance_ was named by an optimist, I decided as we climbed the gangplank. She had not one ounce of the grace and curve of my father's fleet vessels. Fat around the middle, she was what my father called "beamy", a vessel built for stability not speed. Main mast and mizzen aft, she was heavy with practicality and duty.

I frowned.

Juca raised an eyebrow.

"Seadance?" I said. "More like Seacow."

He chuckled, but tried to cheer me. "She seems sturdy, though."

"She'd have to be, since she will not be outrunning even the poorest –"

"Trainee!" Ivonetta barked at me, from up on the fore as she stood there with the Captain. "Bring the mage! The Captain wishes a word with him."

I saluted from where I stood and nodded for Juca to precede me amidship to the open stair leading up to where the captain stood. "Does that woman ever smile?" he asked as he passed me.

"Only after she's hurt someone," I responded. Belatedly, I realized that I had vaguely insulted a superior officer in front of a mage. Juca's chuckle, however, reassured me.

Ivonetta was waiting, impatiently. A small tightness around her eyes surprised me. Was the lieutenant seasick? Already? We were still at dock!

Juca, however, was bowing smoothly to the captain and introducing himself. The captain of the Seadance was a massive man, with thick arms and legs, and a barrel for a chest. His long, unruly hair and beard were red, touched here and there with spots of grey. Surely, if anyone carried the blood of fierce Avvari mountain people, it was this man. His name was Brellig.

Captain Brellig was scowling at Juca. "Ye are a mage with a proper escort, so I'll allow this te pass this time. I'll not have any magics done on this ship, though! Do you ken this, mage? The chantry woman here says ye'll give yer word on it."

Juca blinked and glanced at Ivonetta, who nodded gruffly at him. "He will promise," she said flatly.

Juca bowed again, and this time I wondered if it was not to hide a frown. Yet, when he straightened, his expression was neutral and pleasant. "You'll have no trouble from me, Captain," he said.

"Good!" Brellig growled. "We're full berthed, so ye'll have to work out yer bedding with the Knight Captain. As the hammocks are crew, and they don't truck with mages, ye can't have berth there." He paused, and eyed Juca up and down, as if looking for some last-minute reason why he could reasonably refuse his passage. Juca met his gaze. "Andraste preserve us!" the captain swore at last, and nodded for us to move off.

Ivonetta led us down to the passenger cabins.

I tried to steal a glance toward Juca, but he would not meet my eyes. For the very first time in my life, it was becoming clear: to be born with magic was to be forever different, forever apart.

And the Templars were the ones who kept them so.

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(TY for any comments - I welcome them! Looking to stir things up in the next few chapters ...)


	8. Chapter 8: Changing Seas

(Finally - the heroes are on their way to Gwaren. Time for some Trainee growing pains, before they run into true darkness beyond.)

(Written by the hand of Talita da Motta, as she remains prisoner of the Antivan Crows in the aftermath of the Mage/Templar Wars. The chapter continues in her voice; it is a flashback upon her early days in the Templar order) (Sadly, Thedas et. all belongs to Bioware and not me!)

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**Chapter 8: Changing Seas**

The next morning was glorious. I stood at the bow of the ship and felt the salt spray on my skin as the pink and gold beams of dawn found their way across the water. It didn't matter that I'd hardly slept. Ivonetta had forced me to bunk with the sailors, in a stiff and stained hammock that smelled even worse than it looked. We had cargo, she explained, that had to be stored in her cabin, under her watch. In truth, when I was a young girl, traveling with my father, I'd loved to sleep in the hammocks; it was my growing anger and confusion that had kept me from sleep. Well, with some help from the snoring of several sailors. (Maker, they could wake the dead!) I breathed deeply of the sea air and felt refreshed anyway. Blight take the fussy lieutenant anyhow. She was probably too proud to admit she was down there losing her stomach.

"Beautiful view," a voice interrupted my thoughts.

I glanced over my shoulder as Juca approached. I was surprised to see him, but trying to hide it, I turned back to the dawn. "I love the sunrise on the water," I managed to say.

"Ah, yes, and the dawn is also very nice to see," he added.

Did he mean - ? The last of my sleepiness was burned away with embarrassment. I did not let him see my face. "You seem to be well rested," I countered, trying to make it an accusation. It was too early for anything wittier than that.

"Well enough," he answered, and moved to stand by my side.

If there is anything better than enjoying the wind and sea on a perfect morning, it has to be enjoying it with someone who likes it as much as you do. The minutes passed happily, at harmony with the gait of the Seadance through the waves and the companionable quiet between us. It was like … like magic.

Wouldn't Ivonetta scowl at me if she heard that? I found myself smiling at the image. I put my hand on Juca's arm and leaned closer to tell him my joke.

I didn't hear the heavy footfalls on the deck behind me until too late.

"I wasn't aware that this was a luxury cruise, Trainee," Everado growled.

I jumped despite myself. By Andraste's flaming …! But I bit back my words, turned and saluted smartly instead. "Captain!" I said.

Knight-Captain Everado was in full armor. It glowed all silver and polish in the morning light. In contrast, I was still in the leathers I had chosen for the trip the day before. Salt had dried white in spots, and my braid had more hair flying free than not. The captain looked me up and down, his expression that of inspecting something spoiled. Humiliation was not a feeling I was used to. It wasn't fair, I'd had no orders, no timeline! Ivonetta had told me nothing of the day's schedule. I stood perfectly at attention, waiting.

The Knight-Captain turned his attention to Juca then. "You are dismissed to belowdecks. The First Enchanter surely did not send you without your own assignments?"

"He encouraged me to study the world, Captain." Juca motioned out over the edge of the ship, and over the water. Then Juca bowed to me. Me?! "Thank you again, Trainee, for the answers to my questions."

I nodded, wondering exactly what answers I had provided. As Juca started past Everado, however, the Knight-Captain stepped in his way. Juca was forced to look up into the older man's face, yet he held his ground and kept his expression completely composed. Only after this did Everado let him pass.

Then it was my turn.

Everado turned his attention back to me. "This is Angelo's star pupil?" he mocked.

"Ser, I-"

"You listen to me, Talita da Motta! Angelo is not here to protect you. He may think that you are fit to become a member of the Templar order, but I have yet to be convinced!"

I blinked. What was this?

"I suggest, trainee, that if you can pull yourself away from coddling the mage in our charge, you might want to find your practice armor and meet me on mid deck. Now go!"

Inexplicably, as I started past him, he grabbed my arm and pulled me close. What WAS it with this guy, I growled to myself. His grip was purposefully painful. "Stay away from the mage, girl!" he snapped. His breath was too warm, too close! "If I think for a single moment that you've become sentimental toward him, I'll send you packing back to your Qun-loving father faster than an Antivan sailor on shore leave gets into his favorite whore. Do you understand me?"

I pulled my arm out of his grip and did not hide the anger in my eyes. "I understand." I said.

He let me go.

The other side of the forecastle, I nearly ran into Juca. His gaze caught mine, and he motioned towards Everado. I shook my head, and we retreated belowdecks.

* * *

(surely this will lead to a kiss. eventually! Please comment, review, etc etc. Trying especially to improve pacing!)

(Also, a survey: Tattoos and jewelry are signs of Rivaini wealth and status. What sort of tattoos do you think Rivaini like best? Something passed down from the reverence of the old spirits? I'm thinking they should be differentiated from those of the Dalish or the lower-cast Dwarves. Ideas anyone?)


	9. Chapter 9: Templar's First Magic

**(It's here! Juca makes his move ...) (author's note: both Talita and Juca have the most wonderfully smooth Portuguese-touched accents when they speak.)**

**{Continues the story written by the hand of Talita da Motta, Knight-Commander of Rivain, as she is held prisoner by Antivan Crows during the Mage/Templar war, recalling the days of her early training, just before the Fereldan Blight}**

**{The world of Dragon Age belongs to Bioware. Lucky dogs!}**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Templar's First Magic**

Not so pleasantly the weeks afterward passed. Hours of tireless training in clumsy, heavy armor filled my days. In light of what would happen soon after, I suppose that these lessons may have saved my life. At the time, however, I was not so appreciative.

More painful than my bruised muscles and bleeding fingers was the sting of my pride; the mirth I saw dancing in the eyes of some of the crew. They'd seen me lying on the main deck, gasping for air, while Knight-Captain Everado stood over my prone form. Maker as my witness, that man enjoyed my pain. His eyes seemed to burn with pleasure when he could disarm me, pressing me against the main mast or wherever he'd cornered me.

It was worse when Juca watched.

Surprisingly, it was Ivonetta's reappearance on the main deck which gained me a few hours respite. I didn't argue with her orders but retreated belowdecks to guard the cargo. Once inside her cabin, I blinked with surprise to find a wash basin, towel, and my leathers that I'd cleaned earlier that week. Mercy, from Ivonetta? I frowned as confusion warred with gratitude within. How could I have judged her so poorly? Or, was it a trap of some kind?

Trap or no, it was bliss to unbuckle the armor, strip down to smallclothes and wash. I unbraided my hair and dunked my head into the basin, giving my neglected head a thorough scrub. Unbidden, I thought of my mother, how she would despair of ever keeping me presentable. For me, there was always adventure, exploring, dirt, cuts, cobwebs and sweat. How my mother had yearned for a proper girl, with lace and petticoats, ribbons and silks. It had been so long since I had thought of her face and could see again the sadness that touched her eyes when she looked at me. I leaned against the bureau, wet hair forgotten and water steaming down my bruised body. I closed my eyes tightly against the vision I knew would follow; my mother lying in her own blood with the sword of a Qunari elf still protruding from her body. Maker above, but I would wear a dress the rest of my entire life to have her alive again! I would marry a man and have a dozen babies if it would mean I could have her back, and see her smile.

"Talita!" Juca hissed through the door.

I startled out of my reverie and grabbed for the scrap of towel that was left for me.

He knocked quietly, but with urgency. "Hurry! Talita-!"

I opened the door a crack, intending only to hush the mage and see what was so urgent. As soon as I opened the latch, however, he pushed inside and closed the door behind him. He turned to face me.

And the world stopped. He stared.

I fought down embarrassment and reached for anger instead. Fist on my hip, I growled, "What are you doing, Juca?! This is crazy! If Everado –"

Juca put a finger to my lips to silence me. I could not read his expression entirely, but a sparkle I had not seen in his eyes for days seemed to be returning. "I have healing for you," he said.

Healing. On cue, his words reminded me of the deep bruises and swollen cuts on my body. I almost welcomed the pain; it was safer than the other, harder-to-define things I was beginning to feel.

Instead of casting a spell, however, Juca opened a thin, leather satchel that had been strapped over his body. He reached inside and withdrew a small vial. "I made this," he offered. "It is made with elfroot. Take it."

I must have looked uncertain, because he took my hand and pressed the vial into it. "Talita! This is no time to be stubborn! That man does not want to play fair by you, you know this! So, we will even the odds, yes?"

I unstoppered it, and wrinkled my nose. "It smells of rotten weeds, Juca."

"The more powerful the magic, then. Drink it!"

And so I did.

It tasted worse than it smelled. Even as my stomach considered giving it back to me, the strangest heat coursed through my body. It tingled and pinpricked everywhere. I gasped and Juca held me steady to keep me from falling.

Magic. It was beyond healing, there was something strange to it. Not only did my once-aching and bruised body feel whole, I felt… more than whole. Like I could take up my sword and fight a legion of bandits without even pausing for armor. My skin felt as if it were glowing!

I looked at Juca in wonder. He smiled with more than a touch of arrogance. "I make good stuff, hmm?"

The sound of heavy boots on the deck boards came to our ears, and my wonder turned to horror. It was the Knight-Captain, coming to check on me. We could not get caught like this! In a flash, Juca latched the door and pulled me to him. We pressed against the wall behind the door, and waited.

The handle turned and met resistance from the latch. Everado (I was certain it was the Knight-Captain) hadn't even bothered to knock first! So it HAD been a set-up!

I had not had much time to practice with Angelo's mana bauble, so it took me several seconds to puzzle out what I felt next. The cabin was suddenly charged with a strange energy. It was nothing I could see with my eyes, but I felt it all around me nonetheless. It swirled and gathered, built in power. I realized then it was like the small test I'd had with the strange, blue ball of glass, but hundreds of times more powerful. But how- ?

Juca.

The energy was building and flowing into him. He'd closed his eyes, and was murmuring something quietly. To my vision, all seemed normal, but to that sense inside that had so recently awakened to such things, he had drawn so much energy into himself that he was full, near to bursting! I was suddenly frightened for him.

Outside our door, the Knight-Captain suddenly ceased his efforts. Heartbeats later, we heard his hesitant, booted footfalls as he retreated to the topside stair.

I blinked. A miracle? Magic...

Juca.

Whom I was holding. Closely.

"What did you – " I began to ask, but he did not let me finish. His hands to each side of my face, he pulled me closer and kissed me! It was my first kiss. I had no idea what I was doing! He didn't care, and kissed me again, and then again, until I got it right.

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:-) This was the most fun to write! Please please review. I'm still working on pacing; the balance between dialogue and description. Please let me know what was easy to visualize, or what confused you. TYTY!


	10. Chapter 10: Shots in the Dark

**[Written by the hand of Talita da Motta, Knight-Commander of Rivain, as she is held prisoner at the start of the mage/templar war]**

**[An account of her early years in the Templar Order]**

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**Chapter 10: Shots in the Dark**

Maker, I was a mess.

Lying in the hammock, I found myself awake and staring into the heavy beams of the deck ceiling.

He'd kissed me.

Just thinking of it made me breathless again, remembering how my skin had tingled with healing, mana sense, and his touch. Dozens of new and very confusing sensations had surged through my body at once. I was drowning, and he was my lifeline.

More than anything, I wanted him to kiss me again. I grappled with honesty: I wanted far more than that. Next time, my hands would find a way under his robes and I would see if I could not set him to trembling like his kiss had done to me. I'd seen a man's body before, but never, ever, had I wanted to touch one. Not like that. Not like now. At that thought, alone and in the dark as I was, I could feel my cheeks burning red hot with embarrassment. Perhaps, in this one case, honesty was quite overrated.

A vision of Angelo's frowning face brought my fantasies to an abrupt end. I blinked with surprise. What WOULD my mentor think?! Juca was a mage! It was my job to protect him, not …not find a way to corner him into another kiss. What was I thinking?!

Rumors drifted back to my remembrance; dark whispers of mages forced to please the whims of abusive Templars. Angelo had done his best to purge the order of those types. It was the highest of violations, detestable in the sight of the Maker, and deserving of, in some cases, death. Others had gone to prison for their crimes. Angelo had no patience for a Templar who could not take his (or her) orders seriously.

I could not fail him in this. I would die before disappointing Angelo in any way.

My path was clear.

Why then, did my heart hurt so? Ah Juca, my mage, I will protect you, even from myself, I vowed. I tried to close my mind to the desires he had awakened inside, what it had felt like as I had learned to properly kiss him...it was both giving, and demanding, I'd realized. Wanting, and offering. A precursor of what we wanted to do with our bodies... but I pushed the thoughts away. I closed my eyes against a single, hot tear that dripped anyway, leaking down my face and dripping onto the hammock. I could never again give myself to that pleasure. For both of our sakes.

I tried in vain to find sleep again. Something inside just felt too empty, even as I knew I should get all the rest I could. Everado would be at me again all too soon.

The clanging of the ship's bell startled me out of my reverie. The hold around me erupted into instant chaos, and all of us scrambled to the top deck. I'd grabbed my sword; my boots and shield were forgotten below.

In the light of early dawn I saw it: A dark and sleek ship flying through the waters toward us, red flag unfurled brazenly above. Raiders, coming for us! The captain roared orders and the crew hustled to obey.

Juca was at my shoulder. "What should we do?" he asked me. I forced myself to ignore how good it felt to have him standing so close.

On the deck of Raider, a figure in robes stood up on the prow. A tingling sense tickled at the back of my brain, but before I realized what that meant, a globe of fire leapt into the air and headed straight for us.

"Duck!" I yelled. It was as good a plan as any.

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Thank you for your many views! If you have read this far and never said hello, please please do so! I am always looking for feedback so that I can improve! :-)


	11. Chapter 11: Fire and Ice

**[Time for some swash and buckle!]**

**[Continues the story of Talita da Motta, a young woman training to be a Templar in Rivain, who is on her way to Fereldan in the early months of year 30 of the Age of the Dragon. The young mage trusted to her care isn't making that journey any easier...]**

**[The world of Thedas belongs to Bioware.]**

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**Chapter 11: Fire and Ice**

The fireball exploded above our heads, engulfing the main mast. I felt the heat of it against my back. Maker!

I scrambled to my feet. The mainsail was on fire! I looked around frantically for the dousing buckets- and stopped in my tracks.

Juca was climbing up toward the burning sail.

"What are you doing?!" I called.

"Putting out the fire!" he called down cheerfully.

The ship turned violently, angling to keep out of the enemy's direct line. Juca slipped, held on, then started to climb again.

I sheathed my sword and was climbing up after him before I could even think about what I was doing. Maker as my witness, I still do not know what I thought I was doing; he needed help, and I was going up.

Another fireball exploded where the ship had BEEN moments before. The shipped tacked again, hard. I had just reached Juca, and put a hand out to steady him. Flames licked the lines and sail above us from the first blast. We didn't have much time.

I felt the tingling gathering of power and he swung one arm wide as he motioned with his free hand.

A spray of ice doused the lower range of the flames. It was working! But it was not enough. He climbed higher, I followed.

Arrows winged past, some of the set with flame. Someone on the other ship had noticed what we were up to.

I had no shield.

"I'm going to use both hands this time!" Juca warned. Looking down, he smiled at me, a twinkle in his eye and not the least bit disturbed about the arrows flying past. "You'll have to get a bit closer, bonita!"

I could not believe I could have time to blush. One wrong arrow and one of us, or both, could be dead. Let alone the dark man with the penchant for fireballs. I climbed up behind Juca, and pressed my body against his to hold him steadily against the mast.

Trusting me completely for his safety, Juca let go with both hands. The next blast of ice was larger. The flames were out!

There was a cheer from below. I thought for a moment that we had an audience. Looking down, I saw that the crew had uncovered a ballista on the aft deck and had fired at the enemy mage.

A close miss, but the enemy mage was taking cover. It would buy us time, at least.

An arrow grazed my shoulder. I hissed, but didn't let go. Maker!

Juca frowned, and his dark eyes judged the distance between us and the approaching raiders.

"Hold on!" he warned me.

Arrows rained around us, as I felt magical power moving again. I held tightly to the ladder rung and pulled us against the thick wood of the mast, holding him steady. The side of my face was pressed against his back; I could hear his heart beating.

It must have been a longer, more complicated spell. I could not see around Juca to see what had happened on the deck of the Raider, but the arrows ceased abruptly.

"We should probably-" he began

For an instant, the world was flame as a fireball hit us directly! I screamed, and felt myself falling. Reflexively, I grabbed for the ropes.

An instant later, there was ice. The ice burned too, but it was a good burn, soothing. The magics seemed to cancel each other.

At my ankle, a heavy weight threatened to tear me off the ladder. I blinked, surprised at being alive, and glanced down.

Juca hung there, holding onto my ankle, frost still frothing from his other hand, his body swaying in the wind. He moved with the swaying (as I fought to hang on) and reconnected with the ladder himself on the backswing. He looked up and flashed me a confident grin. And a wink!

Maker, was there anyone else like him in all of Thedas?

If there were, we certainly were in trouble.

The ballista fired again, and there was a cheer as the raider mage burst into a splotch of bloody pulp. Maybe it was the loss of their mage, or the fact that Everado and Ivonetta, in full, shiney armor, had made it to the top deck, or that our sails were not yet on fire, but the raider ship turned then, and moved off.

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**Whew! I love a good action scene! Again, working on the pacing - please review, even if you didn't like it. LET ME KNOW! TY!**


	12. Chapter 12: Tempting Fate part 1

**[sometimes, you just can't sit the fence...]**

**(Continues the story of Talita da Motta, Templar, written in her own hand, as she recalls her early years in the order:)**

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**Chapter 12:Tempting Fate - part 1**

"Strike, strike, counter …No! Talita! Sword tip down, just under mine as you swing – like this!"

Ivonetta moved her sword with an easy motion and suddenly my blade was yanked out of my hand and skittering across the deck.

I frowned. Maker, but she made it look so easy.

Juca looked from his reading, watching us carefully. It was nearly a week since the raider attempt; soon afterwards we'd hit the trade currents, finished the repairs of the sailcloth, and were now sailing smoothly toward Gwaren. I'd made my apologies to Seadance; any ship that could move in combat like she had against those pirates could no longer be called a Seacow. I had made no such mental apologies to Captain Brellig, however. The man had not said of word of thanks to Juca for his efforts. Instead, Brellig had thanked Everado! As if he, our Knight-Captain, had pulled the strings and we, his puppets, had merely done his bidding. The thought of it made me grind my teeth in frustration.

For his part, Juca seemed unconcerned about the entire matter, pleasantly pleased (and surprised) that a few of the sailors had themselves thanked him.

Ivonetta had recovered sufficiently from her bout of seasickness to take up her part of my lessons once more. I was grateful, despite myself. For all her faults, at least the lieutenant wanted to teach me. Everado simply wanted to watch me fail.

Wiping the sweat from my eyes with my forearm, I nodded to Ivonetta. A cold wind was blowing across the deck, but it felt good against my face.

"Try again!" she commanded.

I gathered my practice sword, checked the straps on my buckler, and took my stance. Strike, strike -

Ivonetta held up a hand, and I pulled my swing short. What had I done wrong, I wondered.

She was looking past me, to where Everado had come up from belowdecks. He was storming toward us.

Ivonetta frowned. "Captain?" she asked.

Everado ignored her and instead stood over Juca, his feet planted wide. "Where is it, mage?" he growled.

Juca, looking up from his reading and blinked. "Ser?" he asked.

Everado reached down and pulled Juca roughly to his feet. Juca's book slid across the deck while Juca himself had to stand on his tiptoes. "You know what I'm talking about!" Everado shouted into Juca's face. "The satchel! Inside the chest! WHAT DID YOU DO WITH IT?"

Around us, crew paused, some pointed.

I was frozen with fear.

Ivonetta was across the space with four long strides. She laid a heavy, mailed hand on the Knight-Captain's arm. "Everado!" she admonished.

With some difficulty, Everado slowly released Juca. Ivonetta motioned to the crew to get back to their tasks. Most of them did.

I realized I was gripping my practice sword so tightly that I was losing feeling in my fingers.

The smouldering anger had not left Everado's eyes, however. "Answer me, Mage, and I will ask for leniency when I press charges! You may get out of this without getting becoming Tranquil, but you'd better talk NOW."

Juca stammered. "Knight-Captain, I…I wish I knew what you were speaking of…is something missing?"

"You know what I'm speaking of!"

"No, ser, I do not."

Everado held Juca's gaze for several long moments. He stepped closer, backing Juca against a wall of empty barrels. "I think you do," he said. His voice was low and ominous.

"He has been with us all morning, Everado! He hasn't moved from that spot." Ivonetta snapped.

"He is the only one with access to the room!" Everado snarled at his lieutenant.

Ivonetta stepped closer and hissed, "And you do not think there is a man on this ship who cannot pick our locks?"

Everado had not considered this. He frowned and slowly nodded, releasing Juca taking his hand from the hilt of his sword. Sweet Andraste, had he been about to kill him?

"First, we will search his things," Everado countered at last.

Juca nodded.

They led him away.

I stared after them, wondering what in all of Thedas was missing from the Captain's satchel; and how much trouble was it going to cause.

I am ashamed to admit that for almost an entire minute, I did not follow. I was merely a trainee and all of this was clearly not my business. But Juca was down there…

The shadowy monster of fate again. It seemed to be mocking me.

I scooped up my practice helmet from atop the barrels and descended into the darkness below the decks.

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**Sorry so short, but the confrontation which follows is likely to make this section too long...**

**TY to all the kind people who are following this story. I am so humbled! PLEASE review, especially if you see an error or something is phrased awkwardly. **


	13. Chapter 13: Tempting Fate part 2

**[Continues the story of Talita da Motta, Templar, as she recounts her early days in the order: Lyrium enters the picture, and isn't pretty, but Juca thinks SHE is, anyway. :-)]**

**(to recap: on their way to Gwaren aboard the sturdy ship Seadance, Talita's creepy commanding officer has blown a fuse about something missing from his quarters. Blaming the mage, the two senior officers have dragged him belowdecks to ...interview him.)**

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**Chapter 12 Tempting Fate part 2**

It was none of my business.

I tried to tell myself that firmly.

Maker help me.

I stood outside the door to Everado's cabin. Deep breath. One, two…

"Captain! No! That's –" (Juca's voice!)

A crash!

I pushed open the door.

And blinked. One of Juca's healing potions was smashed onto the floor. There was an angry, red lump on the side of Juca's forehead.

Everado stood over the strewn contents of Juca's pack. He threw the empty satchel at the mage, who had been pushed back onto the bunk. "I will find what you've stolen, mage, and when I do…!"

There was a strained look around Everado's eyes I did not yet understand.

And where did Ivonetta go?

I grabbed Everado's arm. He whirled on me, his eyes wide with surprise and… rage?

He pushed me back with contemptible ease, but I regained my balance before I could crash into the small bureau. By Andraste, he was as strong as six men, easily. "Captain! If you're pressing charges, do it!" I shouted, "But this is wrong, and I WILL report it. Fully! So back off!"

He was in my face before I could finish. His skin was turning a shade of purple. "You would dare-?!"

I saw my death in his eyes.

I stared back. "I will do what is right! There are rules- You are charged with following them, Captain!"

At that moment, Ivonetta pushed into the cabin, which was not large enough to hold us all, and closed the door.

And saved my life.

"Everado, take this!"

She tried to tug him back away from me. Before he would be led, Everado leaned close and whispered hotly into my ear, spittle spraying against my skin, "Angelo will not always be there to shelter you, Talita da Motta, spoiled favorite of the Knight-Commander… And when that day comes, I will teach you proper respect. I promise you."

He allowed Ivonetta to pull him back. With a final growl of disgust, he yanked open the door and left with her, and whatever she had in her hand. It looked like a vial of some sort.

I somehow found my breath again. I was shaking. Closing the door carefully, I turned to Juca. He lifted an eyebrow as he stood up and dusted off his robes. "Well! That was…unpleasant."

"Juca, do you have any idea what he's talking about?"

He knelt and began to calmly gather his things that were strewn about the cabin. For a long moment, he did not answer.

"Juca..?"

"Do you really want to know, bonita?" he looked up, and for the first time, sadness touched his eyes. My heart lurched.

Once knowing, there was no unknowing, his gaze told me. And knowing would make my life oh so much more complicated. And dangerous.

"I'm not afraid of the truth, Juca."

He smiled then, a touch of his former sparkle in his eyes. "You are the bravest person I know, Talita da Motta."

He stood and slid his satchel back around his body. That done, he glanced meaningfully at the door and motioned me closer. I stepped over the broken glass of the healing potion (the room reeked of rotten weeds, but I had not noticed until that moment). He reached for my hand, and gently pulled me closer. He whispered, "And the most beautiful."

"Juca!" I tensed, blushing but annoyed too. Everado was on a murderous rampage! Could he not sense the danger?

He chuckled, "I am being truthful."

"What is behind all this?" I asked, meaning Everado's bizarre violence.

"He is a dust-head, Talita."

"Dust – what?"

"Lyrium dust. The red stuff. More potent, and dangerous. Addictive. He was sniffing from the vials off and on all day, when he thought I wasn't looking. During the night, too. And now his supply is missing from that locked chest down there-"

I frowned. Angelo discouraged reliance on Lyrium, but many Templars were trained in its use, usually the liquid potions, to be used in time of need to have the power to subdue a mage out of control. Even that much use took its toll, over the years. No one spoke about the older Templars who quietly retired to Val Royaux.

Angelo had given me the rare, blue bauble, however. I would learn to use a Templar's power without Lyrium. Or such was his wish.

But red dust? I frowned. "Juca, the Knight-Commander doesn't approve any of these addictions."

Juca looked thoughtful. "That doesn't seem to have discouraged his second in command."

"So…who stole the Lyrium?"

"I do not know his name."

I froze. "What …did you do?"

Juca smiled. "I did not steal his dust, Talita. I … _may_ have mentioned its existence, however, to one of the seedier looking members of the crew…although, my memory of the event is not quite so clear now that I have this knot on my head." He touched his forehead gingerly and winced.

"Juca, if he ever pieces this together, he will destroy you!"

He smiled, "I would like to hear him confess this case before the Grand Cleric, myself."

The thought struck me. I marveled at the crazy mage standing beside me. Short of killing Juca outright, there was really little Everado could do. Unless… "Does Ivonetta know? Does she also-?"

"I think she knows he uses it, but I don't think even she knows how much. At least, until now."

"But Juca, why? Why did you do it?"

He paused, seemingly gathering the truth we'd both agreed to. "For you, bonita. I have seen the look in his eyes as he watches you. He means you harm," Juca explained. He smiled, "Now he'll have other things to think about."

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**heh. do you think heading into the Blight will make things EASIER for these two? hmm ...**

***insert image here of author begging for a comment* *ty!***


	14. Chapter 14: Eye of the Dragon

**[Talita da Motta writes with her own hand the answer to the question - what does it mean to be a Templar?]**

**"Betrayal is the only thing colder than the ocean water off the coast of Fereldan"**

**[a bit of fluff before the storm...]**

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**Chapter 14: Eye of the Dragon**

A day of rest.

Three days out of Gwaren; Bellig had announced that morning. Ivonetta had declared a day of rest and mediation.

Maker help me, I was beginning to like that woman.

Everado kept to himself, which suited me fine.

We were sitting near the bow of the ship, our backs to the forecastle. Juca was reading a book. I was oiling and sharpening my blades. The wind, though cold, ruffled our hair and tugged at our cloaks, but the sun was bright and the air was crisp and … perfect.

I stole a glance at the mage beside me. His green eyes followed the words on the page, and the slight furrowing of his brow conveyed that he was not enjoying everything he was reading. A swirling tattoo crawled up the side of his face, and a gold earring sparkled in one ear. His skin was nearly as dark as mine, but seemed touched with gold here and there. Or maybe that was his eyes?

Eyes that were now looking into mine. He raised an eyebrow, but his lips quirked into a barely-suppressed smile.

"Are you enjoying your view, bonita?" he asked me.

I blushed, and returned to the work in my hands. The honing stone, finer than a whetstone, whispered along the dagger's edge. Maker, I hadn't meant to stare at him! I'd made a vow to protect him, even from myself.

Juca chuckled and closed his book. "It was a boring book, anyway. Here, let me help you," he offered.

"No, that's-" I began, but he reached over and brought my hand over to his lap.

"See, you've been tensing up your hand for hours now, holding these stones…" he chided. He took the stone from my fingers and …

He began to massage my hand.

I wanted to object. I was certainly strong enough to pull my hand away from him. My surprise and protest melted away, however, as his hands cupped mine, his fingers working out a myriad of tiny knots in my hand muscles. His touch was more than that, however; his thumbs slid over my skin in a way that implied …more. It tingled, I was melting inside, a shiver that was not the cold wind climbed through my body.

He smiled and brought my palm to his lips. His tongue touched my skin in a light but lingering, tasting sort of kiss. I gasped! Maker!

"Captain!" A sailor,on the foredeck above us, suddenly called. He could not see us below but his nearness made me jump. I snatched back my hand. My heart was racing and my face was hot with embarrassment.

The sailor, above, however, continued, "Captain, it's another one of those schools – off the port!"

Another sighting. Yesterday, we'd seen the strangest thing ever: A school of giant whales – hundreds of them! No one aboard had ever heard of such a large grouping. They were swimming hard for the northern seas. That was also strange, and unseasonal. The Seadance had had a tricky time of it, tacking clear of the beasts. Some of the larger ones could have easily foundered us if they had gotten too close.

Now a sailor had spotted another.

We scrambled to our feet (I tried to ignore the wobbly feeling in my knees!) and hurried to the portside rail.

"There!" Juca spotted, pointing.

It was a ways off, but there it was: a huge gathering of what looked like dolphins this time. It was massive, churning the water as the creatures swam north, passing us.

As if …running away? Fleeing? It felt unnatural.

The crew was quiet; they didn't like the omen either.

Brellig finally returned to his bellowing, and the dark shadow passed. For the moment.

* * *

Later that evening, while we were munching on cheese, bread and some surprisingly good apples, the bosun's whistle sounded sharply.

I blinked. I knew that sequence! "A storm, Juca!"

We rolled up the rest of our meal and went topside. The sun was hazy and low in the west, but it was the southwestern sky that made me stop in my tracks.

A maelstrom hung in the sky ahead of us: bands of swirling black and red, impossibly wide, with flashes of lightning and violence. The waves already had a choppy feel. This storm was as dark and huge as a moving landmass.

We'd never sail clear of it.

Around us, sailors scrambled to "make fast" – securing everything that could be secured. Batten, wax, rope and tar – and the captain had made a decision; we tacked in the direction of the shore. It was a risk, getting closer to Fereldan's rocky shore, but close enough and we'd use the storm anchors.

It was a plan, but …that storm! It loomed unnaturally; the wrath of the Maker against mankind could not have looked more menacing.

In hindsight, it was exactly what it was.

We hurried belowdecks again. I found my traveling pack and wondered where I should store it. Juca went looking for twine and wax paper for his books. I glanced around and dug out the Grand Cleric's scrolls. They were already smartly sealed in a beeswax-soaked leather case. Without much ado, I was able to fashion a makeshift pouch tucked them against my skin under my armor.

Sailors hurried past, and I did not like the open look of fear on their faces. This was no normal storm, we could feel it.

The small white-haired cook said it first. "Why, it's a Blight storm, if ever there was one. Storm from the Fade itself!"

A few of us had gathered around the elderly man. Juca approached just then, putting a hand on my shoulder, he said the cook, "But there has been no blight for 400 years…"

"Aye, lad, but, mark my words, the seas will boil with tainted monsters, and at the center of it all, we'll find the Eye of the Dragon."

I'd heard about that. A tale…

I said, "The vast whirlpool large enough to hold a hundred ships across? It swallowed up an island once, the legend says…"

He brightened. "There's a smart lass! Yes! The Dragon's Eye is in the center of th' thing, Maker as my witness."

"We'll be pulled in!" one of the sailors moaned.

"It leads straight to the bottom of the sea!" said another.

"eyyaha! – there is a way!" Cook interrupted, his old eyes gleaming. "The sea chanty line, it is. Listen: Ye grab the wings of the dragon, and let fly!" He cackled.

Juca glanced at me, I shrugged. I had no idea what he meant. Likely as not, the old man was crazy, but it was decided that we'd take Cook up to the Captain, just in case Brellig had any ideas.

We led him up the stairs. Darkness had closed in around us, and the waves were rough and fierce. The men worked the storm sails.

We were going into the Eye of the Dragon.

Everado stood with Brellig, both men holding the rail as the wind tore at us. While the Cook tried to explain the old sea chanty lines to the captain of the ship, Everado pulled Juca to him roughly. "The captain is worried about lightning in the sails, mage. You'll say up here in case they catch fire."

Juca blinked, speechless. I was not, however. "Knight-Captain, it is too dangerous!" I protested.

Everado sneered, "Magic is to serve man, Trainee."

"Then I will stay with him!"

"Those are NOT my orders! You'll get your arse down below. Now!"

The ship's deck tilted sharply in the rolling seas. I grabbed Juca's arm to steady him. "Let's get to someplace out of the wind!" I said to him.

He nodded. We went back down to the maindeck, and found the door the captain's quarters unlocked. "I think it would be safer for you to wait in here!"

The Bosun stepped out just then, and frowned at us.

"Captain's orders, ser!" I said quickly, over the wind. "We're to stay close in case the sails are hit –"

He nodded.

The rain, sliding at a near horizontal angle, arrived with stinging force. We'd touched the face of the Dragon.

"Get in!" the Bosun ordered us. "Stand watch and Hold Fast!"

The deck pitched again, but the Bosun walked it like he had sticky pads on his feet.

Juca and I slipped inside the door and closed it behind us. The Captain's quarters smelled of oiled wood and beer. Not far from the door, a bench folded down from the wall, with leather hand-holds.

"The Knight-Captain wants you below…" Juca began, as we took hold.

"The Knight-Captain is trying to get you killed!" I growled back.

The Seadance pitched sharply again. Men yelled out there, in the gale. I'd been uncharitable from the start; these were good sailors, all, and the Seadance was a tough bird of a ship.

"Perhaps," Juca shrugged, "But he may have something worse in mind for you, bonita."

Worse than death, I thought?

The ship jarred and pulled as huge wave washed over the deck. Lightning flashed violently.

"It's too dangerous, now…" I countered, "and, didn't the Bosun say I had to keep an eye on you?"

Juca feigned astonishment that I would sully my honor with a lie, but to me, it did not seem like a breach of honor at all. Everado was my commanding officer, true, but he was going against nearly all that I had been taught; I could not obey him simply for the sake of being obedient. It wasn't in me. In a better world, a world where my mother had not been murdered by pointy-eared religious fanatics, I would have become the captain of my own ship. I would be making my own rules.

The ship groaned, and cracked. More shouting, the crackle of lightning, deafening thunder, and the roar of the rain like millions of tiny diamond hammers surrounded us. The door slammed open, blowing in the wind and freezing rain. Two sailors dragged a third. "He fell from the mast arm-" one of them explained.

We helped drag the poor man inside. Through the open door I could hear Captain Brellig's strong, fierce voice, commanding his men.

A second later lightning danced all about the deck. The ship shuddered and the air reeked of ozone. I tried to blink away the intense white that had burned into my eyesight. I was nearly blind.

Juca stepped past the unfortunate sailor and looked out. "The sail is on fire!"

And he stepped out into that hell.

"By Andraste's Flaming …! Juca! Wait!" I shouted, leaping up after him. Or where I thought he had been.

The stormsail was burning fitfully. It was too high up! I caught up with Juca at the mast ladder. "Juca, no! It will put itself out, in this rain."

Before he could answer, half the ocean came down on our heads. It was shockingly, painfully cold. Somehow, I sensed Juca sliding past me, as the ship was nearly on her beams; laying to her side while she fought to right herself.

The seawater sluiced past us and found myself holding some barrel netting with one hand, and Juca's wrist with another.

We tried to get to our feet, but another wave caught us. I held on as I felt the sea trying to pull Juca way from me.

You can't have him! I wanted to shout at the sea. At the Maker. At anyone who would listen.

I was getting numb, however. It was time to move! I tried to get us both up, we had to get back to shelter!

Everado's form was the last I thought I would find. He stood over me, the lightning overhead revealing his cold expression. "I commend your souls to the Maker," I heard him say.

"No!"

The next wave washed us, I had to hold on! I had to-!

A metal boot connected with my head. And again. A third time, and everything went black and cold.

* * *

Sorry so long! I may edit more out to give this a better feel.

Please review! TY!


	15. Chapter 15: Welcome to Ferelden

**[I almost deleted this chapter - but, it will remain as a character study: it is when you face death when those things that are not essential are stripped away and you are left with only that which matters to you. ]**

**[Continues the story of Talita da Motta, by her own hand.]**

**[note: Bioware owns all rights to the world of Dragon Age]**

* * *

**Chapter 15: Welcome to Fereldan**

Without the searing pain, I would have thought myself dead.

But, by the Maker's Blessing, there was pain. A whole sodding lot of it.

My entire middle was on fire.

Strangely, something was scraping my legs in a way that, probably, should have been quite painful too.

Before I could decide what exactly that meant, and how upset should be about it, the tide picked me up and set me down roughly against some other equally hard and unforgiving surfaces. Rocks, I decided.

Those were not any more comfortable than the first set.

I tried to remember who I was, and why I was in so much pain.

Seawater foamed over me, trying to crawl up my nostrils.

I coughed. More pain.

Still no luck on remembering why I should be lying against the rocks, my middle feeling like it was on fire, but the rest of me wet and cold as a corpse. Somewhere, behind my eyelids, was a seductive warmth, and if I closed them again, I just might find that warm, quiet place ...

A moan.

I wasn't alone? A small part of me recognized that fact and labeled it as being urgent, a reason not to close my eyelids and drift away.

"Talita…."

For a heartbeat, I did not recognize my own name.

Then, it all came back.

Juca!

I tried to move, and was panicked that my limbs did not seem to be responding.

"Juca!" I tried to call. Thunder was still rolling, although it was distant, and the sound of the storm waves crashing among the rocks was too loud. Also, my lungs seemed strangely full of lead.

I tried again to move. Fighting off another freezing deluge of seawater, I managed to pull myself up a little higher onto the boulder I was wedged against. I was numb, and frozen, and hurt. In the occasional flash of distant light, I saw blood dripping and pooling. In hindsight, I thought, perhaps being so numb you could not feel your own limbs could be a good thing…

"Juca!" I called again.

Another wave cruelly slammed me against the boulder. A lumpy protrusion smashed up against my middle and suddenly I was retching into the flotsam.

Seawater. Another type of burn, this time in my throat. I drew a deeper breath, however, once the coughing stopped.

Pieces of thick, jagged ice swirled around me, broken off from my armor, it seems. My sluggish brain decided this was important to know. Ice?

Juca. He'd frozen us somehow, and made us float to the shore! I imagined a raft of ice, centered around my middle, keeping my head out of the water.

It explained the burning of my ice-frozen skin.

"Juca!"

I had to find him, and get him out of the water! Panic warmed my blood, and somehow, I was able to climb over the rock and slip down on the shore side of things, which shielded me from the worst of the stormy waves. I did not want to be pulled back out to sea. Juca could not be too far away. I managed to stand, although I could not feel my legs. I was grateful to the Maker that they still worked, somewhat. I leaned against the boulder, and waited for a flash of lightning.

The shore was ugly. Piled with stones and boulders, it was nothing like the white, warm, sandy shores of Rivain. The storm surge had carried me up above the normal high tide mark and I could see a dark, looming forest not far away.

But there was no sign of my mage. I called out again and listened intently. Come on, Juca, I willed. A dizziness was edging my thoughts and I suddenly feared that I would pass out before I found him.

Maker, please.

A glint of white caught my eye. More broken pieces of ice! My heart leapt! Juca would be near those, I wagered. I tried to hurry in that direction, but fell instead onto the cruel rocks. The waves tried their best to return me to the sea.

No!

I would not let Juca die out here. Not after he had saved us both from drowning. I found my way to my feet again. Cautiously, slowly, I tried to make progress. It was exhausting. I could not believe I was so weak. It would have been hilarious if we weren't so close to dying; it seemed to be taking me hours to cross a space of twenty feet! Even with boulders and pounding storm surge, I should have been able to do so much more!

Near where an odd chunk of ice was trapped between two jagged rocks, I found a heap of mage robes, all tangled and torn.

My hands were shaking as I propped myself close enough to reach for him.

There was still warmth inside the robes!

Relief flooded through my veins; relief so real that it was warm and tingled through my body, much like one of Juca's potions…

Potions!

I rustled rudely through his robes and found his satchel, which was down in the water. My fingers were mostly numb, but I worked at the buckles, slipped my hand inside, and found one of the small vials.

Rotten weeds have never tasted so very good. No, not just good, delicious!

Maker! My heart seemed to beat correctly, again. Heat warmed my numb limbs. New pains clamored for attention, but I welcomed them. I may have even laughed. I was alive!

I stoppered the vial again, having left half for Juca. I held the potion with my teeth while I fought Juca free of the robes which entangled him, and pulled him upright against the boulder behind us. Blood flowed from where he had hit his head, and one of his arms was hanging at a wrong angle, but he was still breathing!

I unstoppered the vial, spit the cork into the water, and held it to his lips. How does one make someone swallow, I wondered.

I gave him a little shake. "Juca! Drink this!"

I poured a few drops of the potion into his mouth. It drizzled out!

"Juca! Please! Swallow!"

Another wave rolled over us, but it only soaked our legs; the storm was beginning to recede.

I felt him move! He groaned, again.

More potion! "DRINK THIS!" I ordered.

Thankfully, I did not accidentally drown him in potion. It may have been a near thing, however. I held him as he coughed and choked. The magic worked, and he found his breath…

He opened his eyes. And smiled.

My amazing, brilliant, charming, brave, mage; what was I going to do with him?

"Welcome to Ferelden," I said.

* * *

**Next, they meet the new neighbors ... :-)**

**[A/N: If you have ever been to the shores of Maine (in the US) then you can picture the coast of Fereldan just north of Gwaren perfectly. In fact, if you Google Image search the words "Maine shore" the first picture you see (at Sunyside park Acadia National Forest) is exactly as I imagine it to be. I have close family that lives and works at that National Park :-)]**

Comments are always welcome! Especially if this VERY drawn out scene didn't seem to work for you ... TY!


	16. Chapter 16: Elves

**[Continues the story of Talita da Motta, Templar from Rivain, as written by her own hand, recounting her early days in the order. She has been shipwrecked on the shores of Fereldan, with a mage, Juca, who has been placed in her charge]**

[Ferelden, Dalish, Templars: they all belong to Bioware. *sigh*]

* * *

**Chapter 16: Elves**

I awoke warm and comfortably snug.

I did not open my eyes, but could feel the sunlight on my face. I heard the sounds of the sea not too far off. The scent of fresh pine surrounded me. It was so nice just to be warm…

The warmth of skin sliding against skin.

I opened my eyes in shock.

I was lying half atop Juca.

Neither of us was wearing a single stitch of clothing!

Maker!

I jumped up, trying to avert my eyes, and climbed out of the nest we had made of soft pine and fern fronds. The morning wind lashed cruelly at my body and I shivered. I vaguely remembered finding our little nest after we'd made our way just into the forest. We had been miserable, unable to get warm in our sea-soaked clothing...

Juca had pointed out that our clothing would dry better out in the wind.

I blushed as I found my things. They were still very damp and cold, but it was all I had. Shivering and shaking, I pulled on the clothing and tried to remember exactly HOW our clothing had made its way into the tree branches. And what we did we DO after it was there?

We didn't…did we? I certainly hoped we hadn't, because I didn't remember a thing.

The thought made me blush even more. I meant, of course, because it was my job to protect the mage. Not to seduce him.

No, I decided, as I fumbled with the salt-stiff leather of my armor, we both had been exhausted, and simply glad to be alive.

Now we had to survive.

My boots had not fared well in the sea, although thankfully one of my knives was still shealthed. I winced as I had to squeeze my foot into …

"Good morning!"

I turned, half bent, half leaning on a rock. Juca was standing, and ... stretching.

I hastily looked away.

"Good morning," I answered, still struggling with my boot.

"Here, let me –" he offered

"No! I mean, no, I've got it…you should get dressed."

He chuckled.

I blushed. He wanted me to look at him!?

While he examined what remained of his gear I stepped out of the trees and hopped up onto a rock. Injuries that were not healed by the magical potion complained, but not loudly. Happily, the sleep had magnified the effect of the elfroot potion. Shielding my eyes, I looked out onto the rocky coastline. The sea still frothed unhappily, and the horizon looked unfriendly. There would be more rain soon.

Something metal glinting near the shore caught my attention. I hurried in that direction. There, caught on some rocks…

My swordbelt, scabbard, and sword! I picked it up, shaking off sand and sea. The leather was a mess, but the sword…I pulled it from its sheath and it gleamed in the sunlight. It was only a standard issue sword for a trainee, but I was ever so happy to see it. It still held the keen edge I'd put to it …was it only a day ago?

Juca stepped from rock to rock, moving in my direction. I sheathed my blade and walked back to meet him. At least he was properly dressed now. The rogue.

"I wondered where I dropped that," he said.

I blinked. "You brought my sword?"

"The ice broke the buckle. I tried to keep it from falling into the ocean. But when we hit the rocks here…"

I nodded, still humbled by his quick thinking in the water. It brought my thoughts back to just why we were in the water in the first place.

"It was Everado," I said, after a long moment.

Juca frowned. "I thought I saw him. And I know we are not his favorite people…but murder?"

I sat down on a smooth, round boulder large enough for both of us. "I think…there is more to this than we know. He seems to hate me because of Angelo."

He sat beside me. "Or the Lyrium problem is deeper than we suspected."

I nodded and frowned. "We need to head for Gwaren. It was three days away before the storm took us. If we are lucky, waves might have brought us even closer."

"If the Seadance survived, she will be there."

"If she didn't, we may find evidence of that, as well."

He nodded. It was a somber thought. And yet, Everado waited on Seadance, if the ship still survived.

Something settled in the air between us. Juca nodded. "We'll set this right, Talita." He promised.

"And I will escort you to the Circle of Magi," I promised in return.

Juca raised an eyebrow. "That is a long and dangerous journey from here, bonita."

I shook my head. "I don't care."

He chuckled at my determination. Here we stood, shipwrecked on a foreign beach, half frozen, with no food and no water, and I was making grand plans…

My lips quirked into a smile despite myself.

He laughed. I gave in. Juca's laugh is an impossible thing to resist.

"New plan, then" I said, feeling better about our chances even though nothing had changed. "We can start by finding some water to drink. With all this rain, you would think a river or stream cannot be too far off," I said optimistically.

~'~~,~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

"Optimists are fools," I grumbled, hours later.

Thunder rumbled overhead, but there was no rain yet. I wondered, if it rained, could we find anything to catch enough water so we could drink? We were so thirsty…

Walking along the rocky shore was difficult work. Walking within the forest had been worse – neither of us could tell north from south in there once we were far enough from the ocean.

So we stuck to the shore.

My feet throbbed in my ruined boots. I was tempted to pull them off and have a go at traveling barefoot.

Juca was watching the treeline, and the foliage. He could identify a surprising number of the plants. The acorns he'd found for us earlier still rattled around in his satchel. Using the pommel of my sword against a rock had been a crude way to open them, but it had worked for the most part.

Now if we could just find water, that wasn't seawater, we'd-

We topped a rise on the edge of the forest, and looked down the slope.

Wreckage.

Half of a ship lay on its beams a few hundred feet from the shore. Debris was strewn everywhere. And bodies. Yet, there were a few people moving…

Juca grabbed me. We stood perfectly still. A few survivors were on their knees, on the shore, hands cupped behind their heads. Three strangers in greens and tans with wicked-looking bows held them at arrowpoint. Elves.

"Dalish!" Juca hissed into my ear, and I nodded. I'd never met a Dalish elf, but I'd heard of them. We needed to back away, slowly.

Until I saw one of the heathens thrust his sword into the kneeling, begging survivor.

My vision flashed to a different blade: the qunari elf's blade as it cut deep into my mother's chest…

I was screaming with rage, running down the hill. This time, they were going to pay.

* * *

not the brightest idea she's ever had, hmm? review, if you would be so kind. Still working on pacing, description and dialogue balance. any ideas or suggestions please let me know! ty ty!


	17. Chapter 17: Diverging Paths

**{Written by the hand of Talita da Motta, Knight-Commander of Rivain, during her captivity in the Mage/Templar War, recounting her days as a trainee in the order.}**

**{to recap: Betrayed by her commanding officer, Talita survives being kicked (literally) off the ship which was taking her to Gwaren. she and the mage in her charge, Juca, have also survived the Blight storm and washed up upon the cold, rocky shores of Ferelden, only to stumble upon a small group of Dalish elves as they loot the remains of a wreck, dispatching the ship's last few survivors in the process...which Talita takes exception to...}**

* * *

**Chapter 17: Diverging Paths**

"Talita! No!" Juca lunged after me.

It was too late. My vision tunneled as I ran at the arrogant Dalish with the bloodied blade in his hand. His head had turned at my cry, yet he took the time to slice the second helpless sailor's throat before moving in my direction. The cowardly bastard!

Several arrows narrowly missed my head as his fellow Dalish rallied to his aid.. One arrow plunged into the thick leather padding at my shoulder. The steely arrowhead cut into my muscle, but it wasn't too deep. I didn't care. I ran at the murdering elf.

Behind me, I felt the gathering of magical power, but I could not take the time to turn to see what Juca was doing. My target was faster than I, and he met my charge with a dark and unholy glee in his eyes. "This is where you DIE, Shem!" he spat at me.

All those weeks of training served me well as I parried his attacks and pushed him back. He was faster, I was stronger. Fury fueled my blows. He was not the same elf who lived in my nightmares, but it did not matter. No more elves killing the unarmed. The innocent.

My mother.

A second elf moved into range. She was blonde, with dangerous markings on her face and down her neck. She pulled back her bow, at point-blank range.

I had no shield. It was beginning to be a problem.

Before she could release the arrow into my neck, an avalanche of rock roared past me and slammed into her. She went flying backwards, and landed bloody, and broken.

The elf I fought cried out with rage.

I saw my opening; disarmed him, and ran him through.

His eyes opened wide with disbelief.

I kicked him back off my blade and was already running for the other archers before he fell onto the rocks.

They were firing at Juca. I ran at the trio that had just stepped out of the forest's edge. They switched targets, aiming at me…

And were blasted, frozen solid, by a surge of ice.

I sliced into them with the flat of my blade.

They shattered.

I turned to find my next target…and there were none. Blood, stone and frost was all that was left of them. I blinked, trying to catch my breath. My gaze wandered back to Juca and I gasped. Stone coated his clothing and frost flowed from his hands and his expression…my heart died to see it. There was anger. Rage. Murder.

"Juca?" I called. I moved in his direction. Cold fear for my friend doused the anger that had controlled me moments before.

He closed his eyes and I felt him release the power he was holding. The stone which coated him protectively slithered back into the ground; the frosty mist swirling about his hands dissipated. He did not open his eyes, but seemed to be concentrating on breathing evenly.

I drew near. "Juca?" I asked again.

He still did not answer. My heart skipped several beats. Had he drawn too much power? Was he battling a demon this very moment? Maker, please….

"Why, Talita?" he asked me at last. His voice sounded pained.

I blinked. "Why? Did you not SEE what they did?"

Juca opened his eyes. There was still anger there. And … disappointment?

Before I could continue he took my arm and turned me to look at the battlefield below us. Blood dripped from the rocks. There were so many bodies – the sailors who had died in the storm, the sailors who had died by the elves, and now the elves…While I had kept the swordsman busy, Juca had killed six Dalish with his magic.

"How did this help those men?"

I scowled. "It didn't," I answered roughly, and pulled my arm away. "But it will help the next."

He frowned. I could see that he didn't agree. I turned away and went where the swordsman's body lay in a pool of his own blood. His eyes still stared up into the cloud-covered sky. I…I had taken a life. Something of what bothered Juca began to nibble at my thoughts as I studied the ruined elf lying before me. More than nibble. The blonde woman who had been smashed beneath Juca's spell – who had she been to him? Wife? Sister? Daughter? I closed the Dalish man's eyes, and prayed, too late I knew, for peace on his soul.

The hate which caused him to murder was the same hate which had driven me. Could I call it justice? Really? I wanted to.

Juca stepped beside me, and knelt down. I felt him gather power again. I frowned, what was he-

Old Rivaini words, quietly spoken, with the power of the Fade behind them.

I … almost …felt something. It was strange.

He was moving to the other bodies, repeating the small ceremony. It was nothing I had seen before, certainly wasn't something practiced by the Chantry. I wanted to ask, but something in Juca's body language was not inviting conversation.

I sighed.

While he finished his words for the dead, I examined the sailors. I did not recognize any of their faces. So it was not the Seadance who sat cracked open like an egg out on the rocky breakers. One of the crates from the shipwreck held an Orlesian seal. (Had I understood more about the politics of Ferelden at that time, the presence of Orlesians a few days out from the port of Gwaren would have piqued my curiosity. As it stood, however, ships from Orlais were a common occurrence in my homeland and I did not think anything strange, given the storm we had survived, that a ship for Orlais had wrecked here.)

Juca approached me as I studied the tide which was starting to roll in again. In a few hours, much of this rocky beach would be cleansed. "We need supplies…" he began. I nodded in agreement. It was an understatement; we had barely more than the clothing on our backs. We set to work, searching the bodies of the fallen and some of the cargo that had washed up on the shore from the derelict ship. It was an impressive array of gear, but I began to feel guilty as I collected it. Of course, I hadn't even thought of looting their belongings when I'd attacked the elf. Yet, it seemed dishonest, all the same.

Not too far away from the battle site, we discovered an well-established path which led into the forest. After a small debate, we decided that it might lead to fresh water. The arrival of the rain made our decision easier: the thick canopy of the forest would protect us from some of the weather. I prayed that we would find no more Dalish, and led the way into the shadows. Juca followed behind me.

xxxxooooxxxxooooxxxxooooxxxx ooooo

The dark, cloying nature of the Brecilian Forest made me uneasy. I was born and raised a city girl; if I hadn't been on a ship with my father, I was at our family estate with my mother. I did not trust the shadows and noises of this damp and eerie wood.

The giant bear was also something I did not trust.

He was standing in our path, looking like our arrival might be just the thing he was looking for. Juca caught my arm, however, before I could pull my sword. "Let me try something," he whispered, lips pressing against my ear. I hesitated at first, but decided that I owed him that much, and nodded.

Juca reached for power as he approached the bear slowly, his hands splayed wide and unthreatening. The bear would have none of this, however, and growled so deeply that my boots seemed to vibrate. It was a massive creature, even moreso as it reared up on its hind legs. I reached for my sword, I could not stand by and watch idly while –

Juca whispered magic words and I saw the bear's face slacken. The creature slowly returned to all four feet, blinked in confusion, and turned to amble off into the forest.

Juca motioned for me to keep still for several long minutes while the bear lumbered out of sight. Finally, he relaxed, and turned to face me.

The notion struck me forcefully, although I could not put it into words, there was some sort of connection between the goal of Juca's magic and how it affected him. Some of his normal good nature was returning, and although we did not speak, I could see by his expression that he wanted to.

I nodded. Yes, we had some talking to do, my mage and I.

* * *

...not happy with this chapter, but posting it anyway, just to get to the next one...

any ideas on revisions would be sooo welcome. I'm giving up on it for now...


	18. Chapter 18: Love and Soup

**(A short chapter...see previous chapter for recap.)**

* * *

**Chapter 18: Love and Soup**

By good fortune, we followed the sounds of running water and soon found an abandoned campsite hidden within the crumbling walls of an old tower. We approached cautiously, but the Dalish had left no guards behind. With our new supplies, it did not take us long to build a small fire and make a savory soup, hot tea sweetened with honey, and crumbled biscuits to have with both. At that moment, a grand meal for the Empress of Orlais could not have tasted better.

Silence lingered as an unwelcome guest at our feast, however, and it stole the joy I would have otherwise had. The lingering sadness troubled me; a month in Juca's company, and now I could not bear a few hours at odds with him? Back in Rivain, I had ignored fellow trainees who had crossed me wrongly for years without even a second thought. I thought of Marianna, and how unruffled I was for her opinion of me. Why, then, did Juca's disapproval trouble me so?

It was nearly full dark as I sat near the fire, repairing my sorely abused armor. My shoulder moved stiffly from the arrow wound; the blood had dried sticky and dark down my left side, but I still had full use of my arm. The leather soap I had found in the Dalish supplies was the best I'd ever used. It was restoring armor that was very nearly ruined. Another pang of guilt struck me; to the victor went the spoils.

Suddenly the soup was not sitting so well in my stomach. I sighed.

"Does it hurt?" Juca asked, about my shoulder. He sat down beside me, a bowl of suspicious-smelling liquid in his hands.

"No, not too badly," I answered. My nose wrinkled as vapors from his herbal concoction wafted skyward. Something smelled of sour vegetation. "Are you making new potions?" I asked.

Juca shook his head. "If we find some Elfroot, I can. This will clean your wound and keep infection away."

I nodded and tried to return attention to my repair work. He soaked a bandage in the smelly, almost-hot water and sluiced the liquid over the bloody scab on my shoulder. On the third time, the stuff got into the wound and I hissed. It was as if a hive of bees had suddenly decided to help with the task.

"I'm sorry –" he began.

"No, I'm sorry, Juca," I said. I turned my head to look at him. The pain in my shoulder was nothing compared to the pain building in my heart. The dim light from the banked fire barely lit his face and I could not read his expression. Did he understand what was saying? Did I? How could I be sorry that I'd killed the elves and yet certain they would not have spared us if (no, when) the tables were turned?

Mostly, I was sorry I had failed him, somehow. I was also sorry that his disappointment angered me somewhere deep inside. I did not want to be angry with Juca. Ever.

Without consulting my brain, my hand reached up to caress his cheek.

"Bonita…" he whispered.

His free hand slid up my neck and behind my head. He pulled me closer and kissed me.

The heavy bands that were wound around my heart fell away, and I returned his kiss even as tears slipped down my face. I did not understand my own reaction; why I was trembling and crying? Crying! I never cried. Yet…it was a kiss of promise, of unexpected and unconditional commitment; our differences were not going to be stronger than …

Our love?

I knew why I was crying.

* * *

**(so hard for Talita to admit to this soft, squishy heart of hers. It isn't going to get an easier...)**

**(Please review! Good or bad, I need to know - always trying to balance pacing versus clarity of scene and feeling...)**

**(next chapters are longer, as it is finally time for them to discover WHO they are...)**


	19. Chapter 19: Spirits in the Dark, pt 1

**{Secret missions, betraying commanders, shipwreck, Blight storm, Dalish, forest ...and love. what could be better? He's a mage, she's a Templar, how can it ever work?}**

* * *

**Chapter 19: Spirits in the Dark, part 1**

We said nothing after our kiss, afraid perhaps that words would break our fragile reconnection. He kissed the tears on my skin away with a gentleness that further melted my heart. Only then did he reluctantly reach for clean bandages, layer the poultice over the hole in my shoulder, and wrap it with neat efficiency. I studied him as he worked, wishing I could see better in the dark.

Taking my hand and gathering a blanket, he moved us backwards a few feet to where his bedroll was unfurled beside a ruined half-wall. He seated himself, drew me onto his lap, and leaned against the stone behind him. We wrapped the blanket around us and I settled against him, my head on his shoulder.

For a long time we rested this way, reveling in warmth and touch. There were thoughts, though, which gathered weight, coalesced into words, and needed to be spoken.

He broke the silence first.

"I was wrong to see only what I wanted to see. I know there is a deep wound in your spirit, Talita, but I thought …" he sighed. "It was stupid of me. Will you forgive me?"

I struggled to understand. "My …spirit?" I asked.

He nodded, and explained, "We are not just physical beings. We have spirits, which are shaped by the events, the emotions of our lives."

I nodded. I had read that the Chant of Light said as much. It was our spirits who returned to the Fade to dream.

"Your spirit, bonita, is full of silvery blues and other lovely colors-"

"Wait – I don't understand. You can –"

"Yes. I can see your spirit. Well, some would call it your aura."

I struggled with the idea. Too much Templar training, perhaps, but I shook my head. "How can you see this? Is it something you can teach?"

"It…is a talent, born in those who have Seer bloodlines."

A Seer?!

It was dark and I could not see his face.

"So…you're a Seer?" I asked. Dumbly.

He chuckled. "No, Talita. Males who are born with the Talent become Warlocks." I felt his arm move as he held up a hand. "But before you ask, no. I am not a warlock either. I trained under one for six years, but then left for the Circle of Magi."

"But that is why your magic feels …different."

He nodded. "Seers connect with spirits. Desperate Seers will seek the same dangerous paths that desperate mages do, and find demons. But demons are not the only spirits in the Fade."

I hadn't heard this. Trainees, apparently, were not to be trusted with such knowledge. "What else is there besides demons?" I asked.

"The immortal spirits of the Fade are called the First Born of the Maker, according the Chant of Light," he explained. "Yet even they are not the only spirits to be found in the Fade. Far less powerful, but in far greater numbers, are the spirits that used to be mortal, and are no longer here in the physical world."

"Dead people?"

"Yes."

I thought about this. It was, to my simple Templar mind, creepy. I said as much.

"The Chant of Light explains that, as the Maker's second born, we are made of both physical and spiritual natures. Does it not make sense that, once the physical is done, the spiritual lives on?"

I had to accede to that. It led to my next question. "So…what do Seers …DO…exactly?"

He chuckled then and hugged me. "It isn't exactly an organized thing, like the way the Circle teaches. It is chaotic and free, Seer magic. If one is strong enough, one may attract wise spirits who can help you guide your people. One may also simply invite groups of lesser spirits to gather at your will, causing confusion or sleepiness, depending on who you have attracted to your call into the Fade…"

I interrupted. "If you are too strong? Then…"

He did not avoid my question. "If you reach too strongly…yes, a demon may answer. Learning to sense a demon's approach and closing your mind to the Fade quickly is one of the first skills one must master."

I thought of the magic Juca had used in our…my battle with the Dalish. A shiver traversed my spine. "Juca…"

He waited for my question.

"Juca, when we fought the Dalish…did you..I mean. Your magic seemed strong to me. Was…was there a demon?"

He waited several heartbeats before he answered. I felt like I could not breathe for the fear which was gathering inside me.

He began slowly, as if choosing the words with extra care, so that I could understand. "The death in that place had already attracted dark spirits….I felt their influence when I reached for power. My mind was closed to them, Talita, but perhaps not my heart. It is my weakness. I would never make a deal with a demon. At least – " he quickly amended, "I can't imagine anything that would convince me to make such a deal. Demons can give one nothing, it is an excellent fact to remember. Yet, my use of magic is shaped by my years as a warlock, so when I use my powers I am always aware of the spiritual qualities of it. Hate and Rage are powerful spirits who beg to be used to kill. They revel in it. It leaves …a residue, if you will."

I frowned. So he wasn't becoming an abomination, yet, it wasn't the clear-cut answer I was looking for. "Juca, this sounds dangerous..."

"Magic IS dangerous, bonita. I wish it were not so. I wish I could conjure butterflies for your hair and magic carpets so we can ride the winds at our leisure…but it isn't so."

He sounded so wistful.

I hugged him, and put my head back down on his shoulder. I tried to imagine what it would be like to be born with power like his.

The Dalish on the beach had not stood a chance against him.

Yet, it was power he did not want to use. THAT, at least, sounded perfectly sane and wonderful to me.

I reviewed everything I knew about him; save for one questionable tweaking of the Knight-Captain's nose, his actions had been decidedly wise. And as for the other, it was pure heroism, to my mind. Crazy and stupid heroism, but there it was all the same. That he would risk himself to save me…

He held me as if I were precious to him, and waited. Open and honest, he waited for me to…to judge him.

I was terrified.

* * *

**(the other shoe falls next: Juca deserves to hear the truth from Talita.)...**

**(Introducing the warlock is purely my idea, it is NOT DA canon anywhere. Comments/debate welcome!)**


	20. Chapter 20: Spirits in the Dark pt2

**{Sometimes it comes down to honesty...}**

* * *

**Chapter 20: Spirits in the Dark Pt2**

I was terrified. Bad Templars are the ones who involve themselves with mages. I was not a bad Templar. Was I?

Yet I had not been honest with him, yet.

"I…haven't told you something, Juca. I…" I frowned. I didn't want to go here. Why had I opened my mouth?

He brushed stray hairs away from the side of my face, but said nothing.

I closed my eyes tightly against the memories which pushed against my mind. It was too late, I had to let this go, no matter the pain of reliving it.

"My mother…" I began, but I could not. I tried again. "My father, when he was a young man and on the verge of ruin, converted to the Qun. The Qunari will only deal with ship captains who are converts, and it was purely a financial decision for him. It worked well. The merchants of Kont-Aar had been desperate for ships with the connections that my father had. Soon he became a very rich man, and to this day has a fleet of over 30 sailing ships."

I paused. It was so easy to see my father again, laughing as we sailed together on his flagship, picking me up and swirling me around… He was tall and dark, intelligent and handsome…with a lean strength that could best men three times his bulk. And I was his eldest child, his heir, his favorite. We were inseparable. My mother had finally despaired of trying to teach me the finer points of being a woman…

I cleared my throat, and forged ahead. "My mother was a beautiful noble woman from Antiva. I am not sure how the marriage had been arranged, but it involved lots of coin and new ports of call for my father. Mother was, you see, a devoted Andrastian. There were problems from the very start. But my father loved her and worked to woo her heart… and eventually I was born. My two younger brothers followed in the years after. Somehow, my father had convinced the Qunari elders in Kont-Aar that his marriage to my mother was the will of the Qun. Maker only knows how he did that."

Affection and bewilderment colored my voice. I felt Juca smile. He could share my appreciation for a man with such talents.

"I believe that we'd still be together, all of us, if my brother Lucio had not discovered he could throw fire at bullies when he was about six..."

We both sat, unmoving, as the implications of my words swirled around us.

"As soon as she knew about Lucio, my mother began to make arrangements, traveling south to meet with the Chantry in Darismuid. Knight-Commander Angelo met with her, privately. He eventually convinced her that my brother would be safer in the Circle. It was arranged. Angelo would come to our house and escort Lucio to the Chantry in one month's time...

"Our small community south of Kont-Aar was not especially religious. To this day, I have no idea who called the Qunari council down from the city to come for my brother, but someone did. My father was caught completely by surprise as they arrived and demanded Lucio be surrendered to the will of the Qun. To them, my brother was … saarebas."

"Talita …" Juca breathed, understanding. What the Qunari did to their mages almost made becoming Tranquil an attractive option.

"By some mercy of the Maker, Angelo had already arrived and was our guest when the Qunari showed up and made their demands. The council was made up mostly of elves who had converted. In many ways, the elvhen converts of Kont-Aar are far more strict than their Kossith teachers.

"The decision was left to my father. He…" I swallowed at the memory. "He …ordered my mother to hand over Lucio to the Qunari."

In my mind, I saw it all again. My mother, wearing a gown of palest pink with pearls sewn about it, stepping in front of the elves. "She…," I said, groping for words, "…objected. Before anyone could pull her back, one of the elves ran her through with his sword. It was…it was the will of the Qun, he said."

I closed my eyes. The blood, soaking her gown, as she fell to her knees…

"There was a battle, then, right there in the main hall of our estate. Angelo tried to fight his way to my brother, but some of the qunari fled with him. My father was devastated. My mother, dying, screamed at him, denouncing their marriage…everything. She begged Angelo to take her children away, to the Chantry…" I swallowed hard, losing my voice. "…she begged him and begged him as she was dying until Angelo knelt beside her, and promised. He held her hand as she died. My father did not stop him. We could not find my youngest brother anywhere in the house, though. He was just a toddler. His elvhen nurse had just disappeared along with him, sometime during the fight… we had to leave, before the qunari returned, if they were going to…"

I ran out of words.

The fire was nearly gone, and absolute darkness surrounded us.

Juca tried to hug me, yet I did not want to be comforted. I rolled up to my feet, blanket falling away, and paced closer to the dying embers of the fire. My hands balled themselves into fists as the familiar anger returned to me. He watched me pace.

I kicked at a rock and it skittered off into the dark. Bitter thoughts that had been hiding in my heart for nearly a decade revealed themselves. "I was the oldest, Juca. Our lives fell apart, and I did ...nothing. Now I'm the one who is safe. Me! I'm not the one who needed protecting!"

I turned, in my pacing, and ran into Juca. I hadn't heard him move. My anger was an open, livid wound. I knew if he said one thing about the will of the Maker, or telling me anger would not solve anything, I'd punch him.

Maybe that is why he took my hands.

He said...

(and I tensed)

"Do you want to go find your brothers, Talita?"

I blinked. A bridge out of my useless, brooding anger magically appeared at his words. "Yes," I said slowly, tasting the truth of the word.

I felt Juca's smile. "So, we find this city of Gwaren, sell some of these things we have acquired, and buy passage back to Rivain. The Knight-Commander needs to learn of Everado's crimes, anyway. We will report to him, and then challenge him to assist us in fulfilling his oath."

He made it sound so easy. But it was a plan. Then I remembered, "Aren't you supposed to study in the Circle here in Ferelden?" I asked.

"My studies can wait, Talita," he said.

What is a girl to do? My anger wasn't cured, but its energy was replaced by...purpose.

I kissed him soundly.

* * *

**(enough mushiness! So sorry for this! An action scene is waiting in the wings...) **

**(Big pacing problems in this last chapter, I know...any suggestions are welcome!)**


	21. Chapter 21: The Want of Fire

**[Templar trainee and mage, stranded in a far away and dangerous land. This continues the story of Talita da Motta, written by her own hand, as she tells of her first adventure and the mage who shared it with her.]**

**[The story thus far: Talita's expedition to Ferelden has fallen to a Blight storm and to betrayal; her own commanding officer having thrown her to the sea. They survive the ocean waters only to face armed and angry Dalish as they scavenged the shore for profit. Juca's magic defeated the Dalish soundly, and now they survive only with the aid of the supplies from that victory. After an evening of honest discussion, wherein Juca confesses his unconventional magical training, and Talita her unreasoning anger toward elves and toward herself, for failing to rescue her brothers from the clutches of the Qunari, it is their second morning in Ferelden.]****. **

**The Brecilian Forest is no place for a city girl...**

* * *

**Chapter 21: The Want of Fire**

The fire hissed and smoldered in the persistent drizzle. I tried to warm myself in the smoky steam, but it was useless. My hair was still wet from the freezing wash I'd given it at first light. What relief I'd found in cleanliness had dissipated with the morning sunlight. I glared up at the grey and cloudy sky.

"What a miserable country!" I growled.

Juca chuckled, walking up from the swiftly-flowing stream. "Bonita! How can you say that when Ferelden has done so much to welcome us, hmm?" he teased.

He was toweling his hair, dressed only in another half blanket tied low and loosely about his waist...

I tore my gaze away from his dark and golden skin and forced myself to glare at the fire instead. "This is going out," I complained. "Do you have any fire magic?"

He hesitated. I stole a glance in his direction but he was shaking out the robes he'd set to airing last night. A corner of the ruins still held ceiling enough to shield a few of our belongings from the rain. The blanket was slipping from his hips!

I hastily looked at the dying fire again.

"No, no fire, bonita," he answered, sliding into his clothing.

I sighed. It was going to be a wet and miserable day.

He came up behind me and slid his arms around my middle. He felt warm against me, despite the cold bath he'd just taken and the drizzle that was now soaking us. "That does not mean we can't make our own warmth…" he whispered against my ear.

I shivered, but guilt stabbed me. "About…about last night.." I began, lamely.

He held me closer a moment longer, kissing my neck. "Something troubles you?" he murmured against my skin.

I felt my face heat with embarrassment. "I…should not have …"

He chuckled, "Fallen prey to my irresistible charms?"

I was blushing.

He led me back to our dry corner, sat me on a pack, and rustled around for a comb to work at my tangled hair. My thoughts unwillingly wandered back to the night before. I'd kissed him, and let my hands wander where they should not have…and he'd returned the favor. Maker! My body still burned in places … had I asked for fire moments ago? His hands had a fire all their own…

When it was nearly too late, I'd stopped us. Remembering, belatedly, my vow. I was a Templar, or training to be, and he was a mage. To take advantage of that was something I could not do.

Yet he'd held me, contented despite this, all night long.

He combed my hair, picking out the tangles from the ends down low on my back, and working his way up.

I tried again. "I started things I should not have."

"Shouldn't have?" he asked.

His fingers were gentle in my hair.

I cleared my throat. "Yes. I'm sorry."

He paused, setting aside the comb and gathering my hair to braid it. "I am not."

"But, I…I mean. It isn't fair to…"

He chuckled. "Should I be sorry that you cannot resist me?"

"Juca!" I protested. But it was true. My cheeks felt hot.

He finished the braid, neatly snug and tight. I handed him the strip of leather to tie it off. He leaned close. "Do not let it trouble you, bonita. I am a patient man."

IOI

The forest smelled of mildew and decomposing things.

I ducked a dripping branch, but not quickly enough, goblets of water slithered down the back of my neck.

Where had the sun gone? I felt like I had not seen it in months.

We'd followed the trail for a few hours until it began to curve in a direction away from Gwaren. Now we were forging southeast, angling for the coast again, hoping to avoid more Dalish, more bears, and the wolves we heard howling in the distance.

We paused, listening.

I adjusted the heavy pack I was wearing and looked over my shoulder at Juca.

He was gazing out into the forest, listening, I knew, with more than his ears.

He frowned. "There are many angry spirits near here, Talita."

I followed his gaze, but could only see dark masses of trees and wet foliage.

He stepped closer and pointed through some underbrush. "We should try to move off that way."

I eyed the thorns on some of the brush, and raised an eyebrow. Was he serious?

He moved that way. Sighing, I slid my sword from its sheath and began to cut.

Ferelden. Land of difficulty!

Slash!

Land of rain and cold damp!

I hacked. Land of murderous elves!

I sliced again into the dense tangle of bramble.

Land of misery!

I raised my sword to cut away the thorns once more, when the tree above me shuddered to life!

"Talita!" Juca warned.

The tree reached for my sword!

Land of living trees? Maker!

I ducked.

Roots stabbed at my feet through my boots.

I fell backwards, hard, onto my arse.

Lovely.

I slithered out of my pack and rolled sideways as the tree moved to smash me.

From behind me, I felt a blast of frigid air blow past me. Ice froze the tree solid.

The tree trembled; it would not be held for long.

Juca grabbed my pack. "Come on!"

I agreed. It wasn't my imagination; there were more trees waking up, looking around for whatever had disturbed them.

For a girl raised in the civilized world, it was a nightmare come to life.

We ran.

"What are those?!" I asked, ducking branches, missing others as they cut against my face.

"I have no idea!" Juca answered.

As we ran, I reached over to snag the heavy pack from him.

More trees were waking, everywhere we approached.

He drew power into himself. Would he try to quiet their spirits?

I felt the tingle of magic, but the trees were still stirring.

"They are too angry!" he explained.

He stumbled.

I yanked him free of the brambles and sliced at the tree that was reaching for him.

"They aren't the only ones!" I yelled. Maker, I'd had enough of this place!

We ran, blindly, until our lungs burned with lack of air.

Still we ran, until the ground disappeared below us, and we tumbled into a ravine. It was a long plunge into black mud, shale rock and cold, biting water.

The world spun. My ankle throbbed and my shoulder felt as it had tried to leap off the rest of my body. I was lying in a stream.

Juca groaned.

I pushed myself up as the icy water flowed over my legs. I saw Juca sit up shakily. He was covered with black mud; a cut on his face was bleeding red into the black.

I began to wonder if we would ever make it back to Rivain alive.

Before I could ask him anything, we heard the unmistakable sound of a sword sliding free of its sheath.

Panicked, I turned to face our latest foe.

And saw the largest man I have ever seen.

He was the size of a small mountain, thickly-muscled, with tangles of long brown hair and a beard that would make dwarven lords green with envy.

His sword was sized for its owner.

Surely we were going to die. I'd dropped my sword somewhere in the tumble.

Juca slowly raised his hands, and smiled, through the mud and blood on his face.

The huge man blinked. He studied us. I heard the strangest sound…

He began to laugh.

He laughed, and pointed to us, and laughed some more.

Juca chuckled.

I frowned. Mud dripped from my forehead.

"Maker!" declared the stranger, as finally his laughter abated and he wiped at a tear. "I needed that."

* * *

Please, please review - what worked, what didn't! Always trying to improve!

TY!

They get to Gwaren soon. I promise!


	22. Chapter 22: A Giant Rescue

**AN: So sorry for the hiatus - it wasn't planned! So happy to return to this story, finally!**

**A recap is needed: Talita da Motta is a Templar trainee from Rivain, assigned on her very first mission to accompany a Chantry delegation to Ferelden. En route, storms caused by the emerging Blight assail them and Talita, along with Juca (a talented mage in her company) finds herself stranded on the shores of cold, rainy Ferelden. Despite having been betrayed by Talita's commanding officer and left in the sea for dead, the two survive against the odds, fighting off a small group of Dalish looters and fleeing into the Brecilian Forest. The Forest is hardly welcoming to the two Rivaini city dwellers, and Talita is beginning to wonder if they will survive. **

**Talita's story explores what it means for her to be a proper Templar and how she finds the strength to do so against a hierarchy set against her, and against the mage she is falling in love with.**

**Fleeing from the latest threat, haunted Sylvan trees, they fall into a steep ravine and Talita has sustained some injuries. Before they can do more than shake off their surprise, a giant man, who'd obviously been walking along the ravine itself, holds them at swordpoint. After observing their mud-covered, pitiful state, however, he bursts into laughter...**

* * *

**Chapter 22: A Giant Rescue**

The giant man sighed once more, the last of his mirth spent, before clearing his throat and pointing his sword in our direction. "Well then," he began. "Where were we? Oh, yes! Who are you and what are you doing here?" His eyes narrowed, "Dalish-murdering foreigners, I see."

It looked bad; we had geared ourselves rather extensively in the Dalish gear. Juca spoke before I could organize an answer, "We are shipwrecked travelers, serrah, waylaid by the local elves upon the shore…"

"You defeated the Dalish? Yourselves?" he asked. Although his tone was laced with disbelief, I noticed that he gripped his sword more tightly.

"There were other survivors on the shore with us," Juca explained. I marveled; everything he said was technically true. "Sadly, they did not survive the attack. This woman here," he nodded at me, "is all that remains of the Chantry delegation assigned to escort me-"

"Escort you?" the big man questioned. I questioned as well. I tried to meet Juca's gaze. Certainly he would not reveal that he was a mage! I tensed, expecting more trouble. "And who, exactly, ARE you that you need escorting?"

"Oh! Forgive me, good ser," Juca began, as he stood up, with some difficulty, from the muck. He began to brush off the black slop, "My name is Carlos, and I am a Chantry scholar here to study the amazing flora and fauna of this grand forest-"

"Flora and fauna?" the man questioned.

"Er, yes. Plants and animal life."

"Is that so? Are you some sort of expert, then?"

"Well, not yet, serrah. But a task begun is a task half done, yes?"

The swordsman blinked.

Juca hurried on, "I intend to write a book on the subject and present it to the Divine herself!"

"The Divine, eh? Well then…"

The giant seemed to enjoy Juca's tale despite himself. Suddenly, he frowned again, as if remembering that he should not trust strangers. He reached over and plucked a bunch of herb-looking plants. "So, scholar, what is this plant?" he questioned.

"I…have no idea," Juca confessed. When it looked as if we'd lost the man's trust, however, my mage continued, "But, it LOOKS very much like henstooth. Yet it is not, for the shape of the leaf is not quite right, you see?" Juca took a cautious step toward the giant, pointing to the offending plant. "I would be careful of it, serrah, it may be poisonous."

The giant dropped the plant. "Aye, I see that now."

"But THIS plant over here," Juca countered, pointing, "is elfroot. And, if you will allow it, my escort and I will use it to create some healing potions for us to share."

The giant man thought on this and nodded, "Fair enough," he decided. He glanced again in my direction. My legs, I realized, were quite numb from the freezing water. There was mud in places I did not want to contemplate.

"And what is your name?" he asked.

Before I could answer, Juca said, "Ah, my good man, allow me to present my companion, Rosa del Jardinia…"

I hid my scowl as best I could. "Pleased to meet you," I said.

I was going to kill that mage.

-XOXOXOXOXOX-

The man's name was Bendig, and once he had decided not to kill us, he was quite pleasant. My injuries were worse than I'd thought; the ankle was useless and I twisted something badly in my shoulder. Juca, or Carlos as I had to remember to call him, helped to splint my ankle and Bendig lifted me from the ravine floor as if I were a child.

To my immense embarrassment, he had decided to carry me.

I tried to protest. "Serrah! I…thank you, but I could make a crutch, and-"

"Nonsense, little lady! We'll get you to a fire and get this seen to."

I glanced over Bendig's shoulder and frowned at Juca, who had found my sword and was using it to harvest more of the elfroot before we moved on too far. He met my gaze with a twinkle in his eye and a mocking bow. He was enjoying this! Maker!

As the momentary heat from my anger dissipated, the throbbing of my ankle and the deep cold that had set into my muscles made me shiver. Bendig glanced down at me. He had brown eyes that were, I could see now, kindly, despite his formidable and threatening size. "Don't worry, young lady. Everything will be all right."

I blushed. Did he think me some fair maiden in distress? Did he not see my armor? Embarrassing as it was, I was grateful for his help, so I bit back my customary response.

We traveled for slightly less than an hour. I could see no defined trail which led to Bendig's home, and I wondered through my increasingly pain-hazed mind how anyone found his way in a place without street signs. It was a surprise when we arrived; a sturdy home built snugly between two forested hills, and huge, mossy-trunked trees surrounded it on all sides. It was the sort of place we could have passed by within a few dozen yards and missed, if we didn't know what we were looking for.

A large brown bear rose up as we approached. In hindsight, I suppose this was the real surprise. It snarled and pawed the air warningly. The sound jolted me from the semi-slumber I'd slipped into. Bendig, however, continued his pace unerringly. "Easy girl!" he said to the bear. "We have company! Behave!"

"Is she tame?" Juca asked, from behind us. A bit nervously, I thought.

"I wouldn't say that," Bendig replied. "But she knows friend from foe."

"And how, exactly, can I show her I want to be friends?" Juca asked.

Bendig chuckled. "Stay close to me, she won't give you any trouble. Maybe later, you can bring her some fish. She likes fish the best."

Juca noted his words with a nod. He cautiously moved ahead at Bendig's signal and opened the oversized cabin door for us to enter.

The simple home was built with huge timbers and the space was open and functional. Best of all, it was warm and dry! Andraste as my witness, I'd forgotten what it was like not to be chilled and damp. He set me down with great care on an oversized stool before a large hearth.

Juca also was looking around the place as if trying to recall what civilization felt like.

The bear thrust her head inside the open doorway and watched us with several unhappy grumbles. Bendig, however, was ignoring her. He was grabbing a few large pieces of firewood and tossing them onto the bed of coals within the fireplace. I watched as the grey-topped coals flared red from the heat within and began immediately to smoke the dry wood. It wasn't long before flames flickered and began to lick the fuel eagerly. THIS was a proper fire! Before coming to Ferelden, I don't think I had ever appreciated the art before.

My ankle ached. Although Juca had fashioned a splint, of sorts, around my booted foot, the swelling was such now that I felt the intense pressure of it. I tried my best to ignore it.

Juca had set down our wet things (we were making a muddy mess of the man's home!) and come to warm his hands by the fire. "Don't worry, bonita," he said. "I have everything I need to make several potions."

He had rinsed his face in the stream, but the cut along his cheek was still red and swollen. I studied his face. "You'll need one yourself," I said, then more quietly. "Do you trust him, _Carlos_ ?" I asked.

He knew what I meant. If he did trust him, then why the deception?

"I believe that he is an honest man," Juca answered. "As we know, unfortunately, not all men are honest, these days."

He meant Everado! I blinked. Certainly, the Seadance had been lost in the storm. And even if it had not been, the Knight-Captain would certainly think us dead and gone….yet, even so, if Everado had been planning to meet with friends in Gwaren, could there be enemies there, already waiting for us?

I stared at Juca. I hadn't thought of that. Perhaps it was paranoia to assume such things, but the more I considered his words, the more a growing dread began to form within. And the longer it took us to reach Gwaren, the more likely it would be that someone there might just want to have words with he and I.

At that moment, Bendig returned, having chivied the bear out of the doorway, carrying a two huge buckets of water. Juca moved out of the way and Bendig poured one of the buckets into a black pot and swung an iron arm to move the pot over the fire. "Here's water for washing up, and some to start your potions, if needed…" he explained. Juca nodded that yes, it would be needed. "I'll have fresh stew on the outside pit ready soon."

With that, the giant left us, and closed the door.

Juca smiled evilly. "Certainly, bonita, you will need some help getting ready for your bath, yes?"

"You wouldn't…" I said, trying to believe it. I glanced at the closed door, and back to Juca. He was already gently unfastening the wet and stiff leather of the shoulder guards. My shoulder was bruised and sore, yet his touch was skillfully tender. "Brother Carlos …" I reminded him. Chantry brother, the role he was playing. Oaths.

Juca only chuckled. "Brother Carlos is sworn to explore ALL of the wonders of Thedas," he purred, learning closer, lips against my ear, "Wherever he may find them."

I shivered. I was about to be repaid for last night, I was certain. The pain in my ankle seemed more distant as I worried what exactly Juca had in mind….

* * *

**AN - More, soon! Eventually, these two may warrant a scene which will certainly venture much farther toward an "M" rating - fair warning. I will try not to completely cross that line, however. Perhaps a one-shot chapter outside of the main story? Thoughts?**


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